


What would you do?

by orchid1



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Gaby whump, Gen, Hurt Illya, Hurt/Comfort, Illya Whump, M/M, Napoleon Whump, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Protective Napoleon Solo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23078773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchid1/pseuds/orchid1
Summary: When the team is captured, they find out the hard way just how far Illya is willing to go to keep his team safe. The trio try to support each other in an impossible situation and Napoleon is forced to confront his feelings for his teammate.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo
Comments: 159
Kudos: 366





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a darker tale like this but it is expected to deal with dark themes like torture, sexual assault etc so please be warned.

Napoleon suppressed a wince at the sharp crack of Illya’s knees meeting the hard concrete floor, as his teammate was shoved to the ground harshly by the thug holding him. The movement was unnecessarily violent, designed to cause pain, but then again, given that Illya had just killed and/or seriously injured some of his colleagues, he was probably a little miffed.

  
Napoleon glanced at Gaby in the corner, she had yet to wake up from the blow to the head from earlier and he was starting to get worried. She was also bleeding slightly from a cut on her arm, it didn’t look too deep but it would probably need to be seen to eventually. He was not ashamed to admit he and Gaby had been caught completely unaware by the ambush at the abandoned warehouse they were casing. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he had been contained.

  
However, he had been hopeful that Illya would fare a little better, and initially the shouts and yelps of pain coming from the other room had seemed promising. But it hadn’t taken too long for Illya to be dragged in by two of their assailants. His nose was bleeding but didn’t look broken. Napoleon hoped he hadn’t acquired any other major injuries. With Gaby already down, they needed every little bit of luck they could get. There were five people in the room with them and Napoleon had no idea how many others were on the premises.

Illya gave Napoleon a quick once over before his alarmed glance settled on Gaby. He tried one more violent and futile attempt to free himself from the cuffs holding his arms behind his back. Napoleon imagined he could hear the cuffs creak in protest and resisted the urge to tell Illya to calm down. 

  
“So, Mr Kuryakin, I have waited a long time to see you in person.” The leader of their group moved to stand in front of Illya. He was a remarkably ordinary looking man, average height, average weight, and a completely forgettable face. Napoleon wouldn’t have looked at him twice if he crossed him on the street. Even his expression was carefully bland. Napoleon mentally christened him John Doe. John Doe moved to block Illya’s view of Gaby and smiled at him in an unpleasant manner, “The infamous KGB agent who rips apart cars with his bare hands, and leaves a trail of wreckage in his wake.”

  
“To be fair, it was a small car, and frankly a pretty poor make.” Napoleon interjected, partly out of habit and partly because there was something about the way the man was looking at Illya that set off alarms in his head. He wondered if there was any history between them, but Illya didn’t seem overly concerned, so he was probably overreacting.

  
“Quiet, Mr Solo. You speak when spoken to.” John Doe nodded to the man holding Napoleon who shook him warningly, as if he were a misbehaving puppy.

  
“That’s unfortunate, you’ll be missing out. I’ll have you know I am quite the scintillating conversationalist.” Napoleon broke off as his arm was twisted sharply by the guard holding him.

  
“Keep talking, Mr Solo. I assure you, I will take great pleasure in shutting you up.” The man glanced briefly at him before his attention wandered back to Illya as if drawn in by a magnet, and Napoleon suppressed a shudder. There was definitely something very wrong with their captor.

  
He mentally reassessed their situation and found himself getting more worried. They hadn’t been expecting trouble and weren’t even expected to check in for a few hours at the very least. They had just been told to check the warehouse, because of some suspicious activity that may or may not have been connected to THRUSH. Frankly, he had thought of it as Waverly’s peace offering of a chance to relax after a busy couple of months.

  
He glanced over at Gaby and relaxed slightly as she started to stir. The man standing over her also noticed immediately and responded by tying her arms behind her securely. Napoleon sighed; they were dealing with moderately competent adversaries then. This would not be easy.

  
Illya had yet to speak, but Napoleon could sense him also tensing up in degrees as he probably came to the same conclusions. He finally narrowed his eyes at their captor, “How do you know our names?” He asked, not one to beat around the bush.

  
John Doe inhaled sharply, “Of course, you do not know who I am,” he sneered, his face twisting into something ugly for a few seconds before settling back into a carefully bland smile. “I wonder, Mr Kuryakin, how many lives you have ruined without even knowing about it.”

  
Napoleon watched a puzzled look cross Illya’s face. If he really didn’t recognize their captor, they were at a disadvantage.

  
“We have not met before.” Illya stated firmly, glaring at their captor.

  
“No, Mr Karyakin. We have not. And yet, you have destroyed my entire life, my family, my career…and you do not even remember.” Napoleon winced as the mans voice grew louder and louder with each word, till he was practically shouting into Illya’s face.

  
Gaby moaned slightly from the corner, briefly distracting them all.

  
“Not to interrupt this wonderfully engaging drama, but I am afraid our colleague needs some help.” Napoleon interjected. Till now, he had been hoping against hope they would make it out sooner than later but he had to admit, it was looking less likely by the minute. In which case, his priority was to make sure Gaby didn’t have a concussion and see if her arm needed stitches.

“Hmmm,” John doe announced with an air of drama. “I am afraid that depends entirely on Mr Kuryakin here.”

“On me?” Illya growled suspiciously.

“Yes, Mr Kuryakin.” Napoleon's heart sank as the man leaned in closer to Illya till their lips were practically touching and leered at him. “What exactly are you willing to do to make sure your friends get out of here alive?”


	2. Chapter 2

Napoleon was lost for words for once in his life. The situation had somehow managed to turn from grim to utterly horrifying with that one sentence.

He could practically see the wheels in Illya’s head turning as he stared disbelievingly at the man almost kissing him. Napoleon felt a weird surge of pride when Illya didn’t pull away and maintained eye contact despite clearly being caught off guard.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Illya responded even as his face made it clear he knew exactly what was being implied. John Doe smiled thinly, “Is that how you want to play it, Mr Kuryakin? Because I must say, I expected better.” He got back up off the ground, but grabbed Illya by the hair on the back of his head with a casually cruel grip so that Illya was forced to maintain eye contact. Napoleon felt a surge of fury wash over him, and bit through his lower lip on the inside, fighting against his instincts to say something, terrified that he would somehow make things worse for Illya.

“I am not idiot,” Illya responded, promptly changing tactics. “Although you are sick. That is not what I said. You think these are friends. They are not even KGB. I work with them because of orders.”

 _‘Oh Peril’,_ Napoleon thought to himself, ‘ _You are a terrible liar_.’ The tension was clearly visible in every muscle on Illya’s large body, and he could not have made things worse if had admitted to an undying love for either or both Gaby and himself. Napoleon would be amused if the circumstances weren’t quite so dire.

John Doe didn’t seem too impressed either. “So that’s how you want to play it.”

John nodded at the guy holding Napoleon, who grasped his hand firmly. Napoleon realized what was about to happen a second before he heard the sickening crunch of his right ring finger being dislocated. He barely had time to register the pain before it shot through his middle finger as well. The shock overwhelmed him for a couple of seconds, but when he came back around, Illya was cursing colorfully in Russian and broken English.

Napoleon gasps as he finally managed to get a handle on himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that Gaby was finally awake, watching the proceedings with wide eyes. He didn’t recall if he made a sound when his fingers were dislocated and whether that was what roused her. He can’t imagine that was an easy way to wake up.

“Quiet, or I will break one more,” John said almost pleasantly to Illya. Napoleon winced at the thought but thankfully Illya subsided immediately.

“Now, was any of that necessary?” John sanctimoniously asked Illya, “We were having such a pleasant discussion, were we not?”

Illya glared at the man, but kept quiet.

“Now, let me try again. What will you do to make sure your friends get the help they need?”

Napoleon watched Illya tremble helplessly against his restraints for a couple of seconds before he waded back into the conversation against his better judgment. Then again, Napoleon had enough self-awareness to acknowledge his teammate was a giant weak spot in his own otherwise flawless armor.

“I am afraid you are putting him at a disadvantage with all this talking,” Napoleon announced, surprising both Illya and their captor. “Heart of gold, our dear Illya but not one for multisyllabic conversations. Believe me, I have tried many times. So why don’t you save us all a great deal of misery and just tell us exactly what you want from all of us so we can figure this out?”

John snorted, “Well, you certainly like the sound of your own voice, don’t you, Solo? Unfortunately, this has nothing to do with you, so I suggest you keep quiet unless you’d like me to break your jaw as well.”

Napoleon resisted the urge to sigh. Life was a lot easier before he started caring about the people he worked with. A few months ago, he would have been happy to watch out for number one and leave Illya and Gaby to the wolves. Now....though, “Always with the violence, there has to be a better solution, don’t you think? Look, Mr….” Napoleon trailed off hoping to get a name.

“My name is Andrew.” The man responded, watching Napoleon consideringly. Good, the longer Napoleon could keep his attention, the better.

“Andrew, you seem like a very smart man. You know our names, you probably know what we do for a living. You know we work for a powerful agency and that they will be looking for us soon. So what do you say Illya gives you the most sincere apology he can muster for whatever it is he did, and we all go our separate ways?”

Andrew looked distinctly amused now, “Good try, Mr Solo but I am afraid an apology doesn’t even come close to cutting it. But you are correct that people will be looking for you, so we do need to make a move.”

He turned back to Illya, “Now I could throw your friends with a possible concussion and broken fingers tied and blindfolded into the back of a trunk for the four hour ride and hope for the best or we could get them medical treatment and arrange a much more comfortable trip. What do you say, Mr Kuryakin? Are you willing to play now?”

Napoleon watched Illya deliberately relax his fingers and take a deep breath. “Yes, what do you want?”

Andrew strutted over proudly to stand in front of Illya again. Napoleon fought the urge to point out to the stupid man that Illya could break him with his little finger. If he thought this would be enough to get the better of Illya, he had a surprise coming his way.

“Well, first of all, start by apologizing for lying to me.”

‘I am sorry I lied.” Illya gritted out through clenched teeth.

Andrew grabbed Illya’s head again. “Look me in the eye, and make me believe it.”

“I am sorry I lied,” Illya said, still softly but clearer this time. Napoleon had to fight the urge to try and stop this farce. It would be okay, they just needed to wait for a few hours till Waverly sent help and they would be fine.

“Good,” Andrew praised, petting Illya’s hair condescendingly. “Now, kiss my shoe.” He said, coolly.

Napoleon mind blanked for a second, unable to process the utter ridiculousness of the words.

“What.” Illya’s tone was flat, and should have sent any sane man running for his life, but then again Napoleon was beginning to suspect, they weren’t dealing with a sane man in Andrew.

“I won’t repeat myself, Mr Kuryakin. How many fingers will your friend have left if you continue to be a slow learner?”

Napoleon steeled himself for the pain again, because this was too much, an impossible task for a man like Illya. He opened his mouth to say as much when he realized Illya was slouching forward, almost as he was going to fall over. He watched in horrified fascination as Illya struggled to maintain his balance with his arms cuffed as they were, and his lips touched the polished black shoes of the man in front of him. He thought he heard a soft gasp from where Gaby was lying on the floor.

“The mighty Kuryakin at my feet. Not so powerful now are you?” Andrew leered, pushing Illya down harshly and holding him there, so his face was mashed against his shoe and the ground. Napoleon was not a wrathful man in general, but he swore to himself, he would not let this indignity go unpunished. Even as he thought that, there was a second voice whispering in his head that things could and would get a lot worse. He didn’t remember ever feeling quite as helpless as he did right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing a darker tale with adult themes...would love any constructive criticism :)


	3. Chapter 3

Napoleon kept mostly silent his fingers were reset and splinted efficiently, if a little roughly. One of the group had pulled Gaby into a sitting position, and was cleaning the cut on her arm perfunctorily. Thankfully, it didn’t look like it would need stitches. Napoleon was still worried about a possible concussion, and he would have preferred to be the one taking care of Gaby but he had to admit, he was at a disadvantage with his mangled hand. And their captors might be arrogant, but even they weren’t stupid enough to set Illya loose of his restraints to let him do it.

Napoleon snuck a gaze at Illya. He was still on his knees, also watching the man now wrapping a clean bandage across Gaby’s arm. He hadn’t spoken since Andrew had finally released him and walked away. He was also steadfastly ignoring any attempt by Napoleon to make eye contact with him.

Napoleon glanced around, wondering if he could leave a clue for Waverly and his men to find when they eventually came looking. He didn’t know who Andrew was or what the end game was here, other than some twisted vendetta against Illya. He did seem to be well organized though and seemed to have a firm idea of where there were going, even if Napoleon couldn’t even begin to guess where that could be. He had said a four-hour ride but that didn’t exactly narrow things down much, assuming he had even been telling the truth. Still he grabbed a pebble on the ground and scratched _‘PERIL’_ onto the pillar behind him. He moved his hand further away from that spot before adding ‘Andrew’ and ‘ _Target_ ’. It was a risk but they might be faster if they started looking at the right places for answers.

Andrew came back into the room as soon as his man was done with Gaby, “Alright lady and gentlemen, shall we move?”

“Of course,” Napoleon agreed easily. “This place was starting to bore me anyway. Lacks a certain…style. But then again, I suppose originality if difficult to come by in your occupation.” He thought he heard a snort from Gaby.

Andrew didn’t take the bait, at least this time. He nodded at his men to pull them away. Napoleon was relieved when none of them noticed his impromptu graffiti. They may be competent but they certainly weren’t perfect. 

But his relief was short lived when the three of them were patted down once again, and Napoleon was relieved of the last of his lockpicks and even of a tracker sown into the inside of his shirt collar that he hadn’t known about. He met Illya’s eyes briefly and got a tight smile in return. Gaby’s ring was also taken from her and thrown carelessly onto the ground. Andrew had certainly done his research. Although how he knew this much about the team…Napoleon hoped they hadn’t been ratted out by someone in any of their respective agencies.

They were all secured with handcuffs again and pushed into the back of a van. It was plain white, and had some kind of brand logo on it, and entirely unremarkable looking. Napoleon had to admit, Andrew was impressing with his preparation.

The van started almost immediately after the door locked. The back of the van was not especially roomy but sufficient for 3 people to manage for a few hours. There was a small yellow light that kept it from being pitch dark but no windows.

Gaby was the first to sit down with a small groan, causing both Illy and Napoleon to eye her with concern.

“I am fine,” She assured, “but there’s no reason to get thrown around for the next couple of hours.”

Napoleon shrugged and settled opposite to her. Illya sat down shoulder to shoulder with Gaby, encouraging her silently to rest against him.

“What happened?” she asked quietly, “I remember going into the warehouse, and next thing I know I am getting first aid from a goon.”

Napoleon glanced at her sharply. He had been sure she had been up well before that but he understood the reason for her white lie when he saw the relieved look on Illya’s face. Of course, he did not want her to have seen what happened to him, and Gaby had given him that little comfort.

“You were out for a long time, chop shop girl.” Illya said, trying to get a closer look at her face in the dim light. Gaby indulged him for a few seconds before gently saying, “I feel fine.”

Napoleon noticed that Illya was still refusing to meet his eyes. Napoleon didn’t need a degree in psychology to know that the other man was feeling guilty and ashamed. For once, Napoleon was unsure how to proceed.

Illya visibly steeled himself and spoke to a point a few inches over Napoleons left shoulder. “You okay, cowboy?”

“Just fine, say what you will about them, they know how to do a finger reduction perfectly.”

Illya nods and looked away. “I am not good liar,” he said quietly. Napoleon can hear the apology as loudly as if Illya had shouted it at him.

“Well it was worth a shot,” Napoleon said casually. He doesn’t say “ _Its not your fault. I am sorry he made you do that, I am sorry I couldn’t talk our way of his clutches.”_ He doesn’t say _“I am scared of what else he will make you do to protect us.”_

Gaby was watching the two of them carefully, lips pursed in confusion. He wondered how much of the unspoken words are heard by Gaby anyway. She may be the most inexperienced among them but she did have a natural knack for reading people that had taken Napoleon years to master. Napoleon suspected she might know of some of his unconventional preferences in romantic partners. More than one occasion, he had dragged his eyes from watching Illya only to see Gaby’s eyes on him, sharp but not unkind.

“I don’t suppose you have any idea who he is?” She asked quietly, snuggling into Illya’s side. Napoleon tried to suppress his jealousy about she was allowed to show casual affection without being rebuffed by Illya. In fact, it seemed to be calming Illya too, as he gradually relaxed against her.

“No,” Illya said, “His face, it is not familiar.”

“He is not Russian,” Napoleon muses, “Most likely American. Could you have met him outside of KGB business?”

“I have no idea, Cowboy. I would tell you if I did” Illya started to tense up again, so Napoleon backed off.

“Okay, Peril. I believe you.”

The rest of the ride was mostly silent, and Gaby probably exhausted and in pain, drifted off to sleep. Illya pulled her down onto his lap, keeping one hand near her head to cushion against any jerks of the vehicle. The gentleness in the small motions seem incongruous to the large almost brutal nature of the other man but Napoleon suspected this quiet kindness came more naturally Illya than the brutality he had been trained for.

“Peril,” Napoleon started, unsure of how to make the other man understand. He broke off and tries again. “You know, they didn’t bother covering their heads?”

“I had noticed, Cowboy. What are you trying to say?”

“They are not planning to let us go, Peril. Whether you listen to them or not, they are still planning to kill us. You don’t have to listen to them. It won’t be your fault.”

Illya looked visibly surprised even in the low light as if he didn’t expect that. Napoleon suspected he hasn’t received many kind words in his life. “You let me worry about that, Cowboy.”

Napoleon wasn’t at all surprised by the response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments, suggestions, thoughts....please let me know. Feedback makes my day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation devolved further as their kidnapper slowly starts to come undone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Illya is about to be whumped a lot starting from here. Non consensual kissing in this chapter. Please be warned and skip chapter if you need to. Also some underlying tones of homophobia will occur through out the fic. There is one instance of a term being used in a derogatory manner.

When the van finally stoped exactly five hours and 37 minutes later, by Illyas watch, the trio were wary. The long ride had done nothing to quell the panic steadily building on Napoleon. While he had confidence in Waverly’s ability to find them eventually, for now they were under the complete control of a madman with a personal vendetta. And who had shown himself to be extremely demented.

Napoleon was the first to be pulled out and winced as the motion jerked his fingers. He took a quick look around; they were in front of a surprisingly cosy looking cottage. The area was surrounded by fields and he can’t see any other buildings around.

It seemed like a pleasant place, reminding him a safe house that they had once stayed in after a mission in Ireland before it was safe for them to leave the country. Napoleon had enjoyed those three days, with no world ending threats to bother them and nothing urgent to do. He had even convinced Illya to play a couple of rounds of chess with him, holding on for enough moves in the second game that Illya had been grudgingly impressed.

One of the thugs waved a gun in their direction, indicating that they should go into the house. Napoleon considered the wisdom of making a crack about the accommodations, almost on principle alone but thought better of it when he saw Gaby glaring at him warningly. He wondered if he really was that predictable.

Walking into the inside of the house however, shattered any illusions he might have had of comfortable family home. The place was dark and dusty, like it had been abandoned for years. The furniture was sparse, three wooden chairs and a tall shelf were the only items in what looked like it had been a family living room once.

He kept a close eye on Andrew as he stepped into the room after his men. There was something almost melancholy about their captor as he looked around the room, a sense of familiarity with the place in his movements. Napoleon was certain he had finally got a clue regarding Andrew, although he wasn’t quite sure what it meant yet. What Napoleon was sure of, was that Andrew had brought them to a place of importance to him. He wondered if that was a deliberate effort to play into whatever revenge fantasy he was trying to play out. But still, this was an amateur move, with some luck, this location could be tracked to him as well. 

“Mr Kuryakin, time to make a decision again. This lovely abode has three rooms, well two bedrooms and a bathroom at any rate. Would you prefer to be housed with your friends or shall we provide separate arrangements for all of you?”

Napoleon sighed, it seems they were back to the mind games.

Illya stared resolutely at the ground, Napoleon didn’t blame him. Nothing he had said had really helped the situation so far anyway.

“No preferences? Of course, then I think separate rooms should work fine. I am sure some of my fine colleagues here would not mind a chance to spend some quality time alone with Ms Teller.”

Gaby snorted disbelievingly. “Really, that is what you are going with?” She turned to Illya firmly. “He is just messing with you, Illya. I will be fine, and even if I wasn’t there’s nothing you can do about it right now, no offense.” Illya looked vaguely offended anyway.

Napoleon’s mind was working a mile a minute. There was a clear advantage to staying together, even without the sleazy threat against Gaby. But somehow he had a feeling the price would be high.

“What do you want?” Illya asked in a resigned manner.

“How about a kiss?” Andrew said entirely seriously.

Napoleon was unable to bite back a swear and regretted it when Andrew turned to look at him consideringly. He was probably giving too much away, but he couldn’t help it. Napoleon had never seen Illya kiss anyone. In the first few months of working together he had imagined it was a possibility that Gaby and Illya would get together but somehow they had instead settled into an easy friendship instead.

He had not seen Illya with any other women (or men) in the two years they had worked together, he had wondered if Illya was just discreet or just going through a dry spell. He would have offered his service as a wingman, if he hadn’t been sure he would be punched out for it. These circumstances, though being forced into it by a stranger was simply not acceptable.

One of the thugs in the room with them looked uncomfortable too. Napoleon could work with that. He tried to cover for his earlier slip up by turning the tables on their captor, “Why, you sly dog! Although I must say, this a lot of trouble to go through for a kiss.” He turned to the thug in question, “Did you know your dear employer is queer? You look like a strapping young man. Is that part of your service as well?” He expected the sudden punch, bracing for the impact.

“Control yourself, Simon” Andrew said to his goon, exasperated. The man backed off immediately, chastened. It didn’t matter, Napoleon had achieved what he wanted to, lit just that little flame under the man’s inherent homophobia and put him on the defensive. It might help sooner than later.

“I don’t have all day,” Andrew turned back to Illya.

“Okay,” Illya replied through gritted teeth, “But we stay together entire time.”

“Ooh, bargaining, are we? Of course, although you might change your mind later about whether you really want company.”

Illya was pushed to sit in one of the chairs. Napoleon had a grudging respect for the theatrics of it, now Illya would be forced to look up instead of Andrew having to lean up, out of balance. Gaby looked at Napoleon desperately as if asking him to do something, but he was powerless to help.

Andrew leaned in and pressed his lips to Illya’s. Illya was doing a stellar impression of a statue, completely rigid in his seat. Andrew pulled back almost immediately. “Do I need to explain kissing to you, Mr Kuryakin?” Illya visibly relaxed his whole body, parting his lips slightly. He looked just as robotic as he did a second ago to Napoleon, but it seemed enough to satisfy Andrew who leaned it and licked into Illya’s mouth immediately. He got more aggressive as the seconds passed, roughly pushing his tongue in and out as if to prove a point. It looked more like a fight than the mockery of a kiss that it was. He broke off with a rough bite to Illya’s lips.

Andrew pulled back sharply, muttering to himself angrily. Napoleon tried to understand what he was saying but they were too far away. Then all of sudden, out of nowhere, he backhanded Illya across the face brutally. Napoleon swore as he took in the shocked look on Illya’s face as he tired to regain his bearings. Andrew repeated the action, causing Illya’s face to snap the other way. His lip had split open and was bleeding freely.

“You asshole, what is the matter with you?” Gaby shouted at Andrew struggling against her cuffs. “He was not fighting.”

Andrew seemed to come back to himself slowly. “Yes, Ms Teller. You are right. That was unnecessary.” He said, very quietly. “My Apologies, Mr Kuryakin. I lost my temper for a second. It wan’t happen again. Take them to their room.” He told his goons carelessly.

Napoleon was more and more convinced that they were dealing with a complete madman. As they were led away from the living room, he saw Andrew pull out a photograph and stare at it. Napoleon made a mental note to somehow learn more about that photo, however he could.

The men also seemed uncomfortable as all three of them were led into what seemed to be the master bedroom. They were completely quiet, refusing to look at Illya in particular. The cuffs were left on all three of them, not that Napoleon had expected any differently.

“Illya,” Napoleon started, once they were alone

“I do not want to talk about it Cowboy.” Illya’s tone brooked no argument. Napoleon let it go temporarily and asked instead, “What did he say after he slapped you?”

Illya looked puzzled, “what?”

“Afterwards, he was muttering to himself, did you hear what he was saying?”

Gaby was the one who answered. “He kept saying, _you’re not him_ over and over.”


	5. Chapter 5

Napoleon had never dealt well with being captured. Whether it was a matter of days or a couple of hours, the loss of his personal autonomy got to him more than he cared to admit. His fears hadn’t been helped by the unfortunate incident with Uncle Rudy, and the sinking realization that there were extremely disturbed people in the world, who enjoyed inflicting pain and humiliation on others. The man had exhibited a pure joy and pride at his work, which Napoleon might have respected if it weren’t for the subject matter involved. But Napoleon has to admit, he was easy to understand, easy to manipulate once you pushed past the visceral revulsion.

Andrew, on the other hand, Napoleon was unable to get a handle on. He seemed alternately calm and agitated, in control at times and like a spoiled child the next. Well planned in his kidnapping, and yet clumsy in the execution. Not to mention, that his actions were driven by something in his past. He believed Illya when he said he didn’t recognize Andrew, so what were the possibilities? The photograph, the loss of control after trying to kiss Illya, Napoleon thought he could see the broad strokes of a painting forming, but he didn’t have enough to work with yet.

Perhaps, Andrew had lost someone he cared about to KGB, to the actions of Illya specifically, but then again, that didn’t explain the sexual fixation on Illya. It seemed like just an effort to humiliate him at the warehouse, but now, Napoleon wasn’t sure something else wasn’t at play. Napoleon shook his head at himself glumly, at this point, he couldn’t even be sure he wasn’t trying to attribute reason to the actions of a delusional madman who believed Illya was his lover from a past life or something. Still, he needed to try and get more information out of Andrew because there was nothing else he could think of to help. They were outnumbered, completely at the mercy of their captors for the conceivable future.

He glanced at Illya, who had finally deigned to take a nap at the insistence of Gaby. His lips and chin still had dried blood sticking to them, and Napoleon could now see the red imprints of Andrews hands on both cheeks. The slaps had been harder than he had realized initially. At least, he couldn’t see any bleeding from either ear, so he hoped Illya hadn’t sustained any damage to his eardrums at least, although he wouldn’t put it past Illya to hide it.

Gaby moved closer till she was leaning against him. “Napoleon, we have to do something.” Her voice held the same desperation he felt. “We can’t let this continue, there only six of them, and we are well trained, with the element of surprise on our side…” She trailed off as he glanced at her. “Come on, damn you! We need a plan.”

“Gaby, we are tied up, and these guys took all three of us down at the warehouse in a matter of minutes, even Illya, back when it was a fair fight. You think we can somehow turn the tables after 12 hours of capture, no food or water and with our hands literally tied behind our backs?”

“I don’t care, so maybe we go down in a fight and they kill us, but at least we are not letting this farce continue.” Napoleon would be lying if he hadn’t been entertaining the same thoughts in the last couple of hours, because going down in a blaze of glory seemed a lot more appealing than this continued captivity.

“It may not be that simple, Gaby. Maybe Andrew just gets pissed off and decides to take it out on Illya anyway. We are not in control here.”

“So we just keep letting Andrew do what he wants to Illya? Don’t pretend you don’t know where this is heading. And Illya will not fight, not as long as we are both here.”

“I don’t know, Gaby!” Napoleon realized, to his horror, that his voice was breaking. “I am trying, trying to gain information, trying to divert attention from him, trying to make sure someone comes for us, but it’s not working. I am failing and I don’t know what to do to help him.” He angrily wiped at his wet eyes, the frustration of the last few hours finally getting to him.

“Oh Napoleon,” Gaby’s voice gentled, and she leaned into his side, just as she had comforted Illya earlier in the van. “I am sorry, I forgot how much you care for him, I know this isn’t easy for you either, seeing him like this.”

“Gaby,” Napoleon warned, no matter the circumstances, some things needed to be left unsaid, and he could not afford to be distracted right now.

“Right of course, God forbid either of you decide to discuss your feelings, instead of running away from them.”

Napoleon glanced over at Illya to make sure he was sleeping. “Gaby, don’t presume to know things you have no idea about.” He winced as he fell back into old habits, sarcasm and cruelty to divert attention from where he didn’t want it.

Gaby didn’t back off, off course she didn’t. “Oh, get over yourself, Napoleon. You think you are the only one who has ever fallen in love? Its not the end of the world or whatever it is you have been telling yourself.”

“Yes, of course! Silly of me to be concerned about admitting things that would get me fired or blackmailed or arrested in most of the countries we have been in the last year.”

“I’d buy that you were actually worried about that if you were more discreet about your various affairs. Waverly knows, and I am guessing Sanders did as well?”

Napoleon noded grudgingly. Once he had realized, he wasn’t going to able to satisfy his urges with just women, he had not tried to hide the fact from his handlers. He supposed he was fortunate; it had not been used against him.

“Does Illya know?” He asked cautiously, he didn’t think so, but maybe he had not been as subtle as he had led himself to believe.

“I don’t know, Napoleon. Probably not. He has certainly not discussed it with me.”

Napoleon sighed in relief, but it was short lived as she continued.

“Have you considered that you should tell him? He is not as rigid as you think. It may even help him, to know, at a time like this.”

Napoleon grimaced; Gaby was such a good agent that it was easy to forget how young and naive she could be. Still, he couldn’t deny it was nice to imagine for a few moments, Illya and him alone in a cabin somewhere. Illya reacting to what he said not with horror or disgust but with a gentle smile and a kiss. It wasn’t a new fantasy by any means, but it seemed a little more real with Gaby also feeding into it.

The fantasy broke sharply against reality as the door was opened, Andrew first, with two of his goons behind him. Illya woke up sharply, setting into a sitting position in seconds.

“I hope you all had a chance to relax.” Andrew said pleasantly, back to his bland persona. “I thought you might like some food and water?”

Although, Andrew was addressing Illya directly, Napoleon interrupted before Illya could respond.

“That sounds lovely! If its another kiss you are looking for as payment, can I interest you in my services? I assure you, I have been complemented on my technique by many lovely ladies.”

Illya turned to look at him sharply, but Napoleon ignored him. He had to at least try, even if he hadn’t been successful so far.

Andrew looked at him curiously, “You know, Mr Solo. Every piece of information I have about you says that you are selfish, driven by greed and lust and little else. And yet, you keep trying to annoy me, and putting yourself in the line of fire. I wonder why?”

He walked over to Illya and grasped his chin to look at him carefully. “Then again, I suppose a pretty face and body can cloud all of our judgments. Perhaps, what we both want from Mr Kuryakin here aren’t that different.”

Napoleon felt his blood boil at the crass implication. He didn't deny even to himself, that he desired Illya but to imply that was the same as what Andrew was doing disgusted him. He looked at Illya, wondering for a second if Illya would believe Andrew, if Illya would think him as demented as their captors. Illya didn't meet his eyes.

“However,” Andre continued, evidently satisfied to have planted the thought in Illya’s head, “I am afraid that won’t be necessary. All I want from Mr Illya is an answer.”

Illya looked even more disturbed at that, “I will not betray my country, no matter what you do. If that is what you want, you may as well kill us now.” Napoleon wasn’t at all surprised by the response.

“Oh I don’t need you to betray your country, Mr Kuryakin. I just need you to tell me, if you recognize this man.” Andrew pulled the photograph out of his pocket, sticking it in front of Illya’s face. Illyas face fluttered briefly, probably with recognition before smoothing out to a blank mask.

“Why do you want to know?” Illya asked, clearly stalling.

“Yes or no? Mr Kuryakin?”

Napoleon could see Illya weighting the advantages of answering the question and buying them a little time. He finally sighed and said, “Yes, he was KGB. Betrayed his country. Was executed for it. This is matter of public record.”

Napoleon Knew Illya had triggered Andrew even before he moved. Time halted and he almost felt like he was watching a slow motion movie when Andrew grabbed a gun from one of his men and cold cocked Illya in the forehead with it. Illya toppled over to the side with the force of the blow but wasn’t allowed a chance to get up again as Andrew kicked him repeatedly. With his hands bound, Illya couldn’t protect his chest or the sensitive area of his stomach from the kicks. Andrew didn’t stop, looking to be in an uncontrollable frenzy.

Napoleon couldn’t help himself moving forward despite the uselessness of the gesture but was yanked back by Simon. Napoleon could see the other man had a firm hold of Gaby as well. The attack continued for what seemed like an eternity, only interrupted by the sounds of Andrew’s grunts of exertion and Illya’s small gasps of pain. Finally, it stopped just as Napoleon thought he was going mad.

“Do not speak of him like that,” Andrew panted out, winded from his outburst. “However, you did answer my question, so my men will provide you with food and water and the chance to use the facilities. I am a fair man.” He left the room abruptly.


	6. Chapter 6

Simon loosened his grip on Napoleon as soon as Andrew left the room, though he didn’t let him go entirely.

“Release my hands, he needs help.” Gaby was talking to the man holding her in a tone that people usually knew better than to argue with. He looked at her doubtfully but didn’t respond immediately. “Come on, there are two of you, and you both have weapons. You really think a tiny unarmed girl will be able to take you both down single handed?” Gaby asked in an impressively dry tone. “I must say, I am flattered.”

Napoleon glanced at Simon and noticed him wavering slightly. He decided to pitch in. “Come on, the man needs help. You think your extremely mentally stable boss is going to react rationally if Kuryakin dies on your watch? Because, my impression is that he will somehow find a way to blame the both of you for his temper tantrums.”

Simon seemed satisfyingly worried at the prospect. “Fine, but if you try anything, you will regret it. Boss has no problem with either of you two dying or getting seriously maimed. He certainly won’t blame us for that.”

“Understood, look we just want to help our friend here.” Gaby said pacifyingly. “We won’t cause any trouble.”

Simon released Gaby, and after a few seconds hesitation released Illya’s arms from behind his back as well. He leaned in close to Illya and said “You try anything, I shoot her in both knees. Understood?”

Illya nodded slightly, Napoleon was relieved that he at least seemed to be conscious and responsive.

Gaby ran to Illya, and sat next to him, gently guiding him to lie down on the floor on his back. Her hands immediately went to the back of his head, where the gun made contact. She swore colorfully when her hand came away wet and red. “I need some gauze, he’s bleeding,” She said, glancing pointedly at their captors. When neither of them moved, she sighed before ripping off one of her sleeves with surprising ease. Napoleon wouldn’t be surprised if all of her dresses were designed for easy disassembly. He had certainly seen her rip off portions of her attire to give herself increased mobility on more than one occasion. He distinctly remembered Illya’s eyes popping out of his head like a cartoon the first time she had turned a very expensive looking gown into a swimsuit in under 30 seconds.

She now pressed the piece of cloth firmly against Illya’s head, ignoring his small sound of protest at the new pain. “Can you hold this?” She asked Illya, and guided his hand so it was applying pressure to his wound. She used her freed hands to carefully run her hands over his chest, noting his reactions like a hawk. She also pulled up his shirt to take a close look at his stomach and lower back. Her face was grim when she tuned to Napoleon. She moved her hand back to holding her sleeve against his head.

“He definitely has at least two cracked ribs…most likely a concussion, if not worse. And even that’s if he’s currently not bleeding into his head or his abdomen. He needs a doctor.” She said quietly. Napoleon couldn’t say he was surprised at any of the information she rattled off, and he had to admit, it could have been a lot worse. Given the viciousness of the attack, he had feared that a broken rib could puncture a lung or some other organ. Hell, the blow to the head alone could have caused permanent brain damage. Andrew was not even remotely in control of his actions, if he wanted to keep Illya alive at least for now.

Simon snorted, “Don’t push your luck, Lady. Do the best you can for your friend. I’ll send up some bandages with the food and water.” He did look pretty concerned though. Maybe he wasn’t as much of a psychopath as his other friends and hadn’t signed on for multiple homicides. Or maybe he was realizing just how demented his employer was and wondering about his own safety. Napoleon made a mental note to come back to it later, but for now his main concern was Illya.

The two of them left the room, leaving Napoleon still bound. They had left both Gaby and Illya untied for now, but with Illya presumably out of action for the foreseeable future, he supposed they weren’t considered that much of a threat anymore.

He moved over and collapsed next to where Gaby and Illya were on the floor. Up close, he could see that Gaby’s entire body was shaking slightly and she was taking deep controlled breaths, deliberately as if to avoid panicking. Her fingers were applying firm pressure but also practically vibrating against Illya’s head.

“Is not too bad.” Illya grunted. Gaby glared at him disbelievingly.

“Is not.” Illya insisted, “I have had worse in first year of training at KGB. Even little girls in Russia kick harder.”

Napoleon snorted, “Remind me never to complain about CIA’s methods again. Say what you will about Sanders, he never had me beaten up by little girls during my training.”

“Maybe that’s why you are a terrible spy, Cowboy.” Illya said gamely, as if reciting from a script. He suspected it was more for Napoleon’s and Gaby’s benefit than his own.

Gaby smiled, even if it was a little watery. Her hands seemed to be shaking less, but it didn’t stop. Good, Napoleon needed her to be at her best, to even have a small chance of surviving this mess.

The door opened again a few minutes later revealing only Simon carrying a box in one hand and his gun loosely trained on them with the other. Napoleon raised an eyebrow, maybe the crew was starting to get overconfident after all.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Simon warned Napoleon immediately, setting the box on the ground. “They will be up here in seconds if I so much as make a peep. I just figured, you have bigger problems right now. There are bandages in the box. I’ll try to get some painkillers later if I can, but no promises.”

“Thank you, Simon. That’s kind of you." Gaby sounded almost completely sincere as she smiled at the man. Maybe Napoleon wasn’t the only one who had sensed a chink in his armor. He kept quiet and decided to let her try to exploit it. Simon would probably be a lot more susceptible to Gaby’s charms than his own, especially after Napoleons little stunt earlier.

Simon grunted and left, leaving their box of precious supplies near the door. Napoleon started towards it before realizing he would be useless to help in anything at the moment. The others seemed to notice his aborted move, and Gaby patted him comfortingly on the arm as she went to get it, Illya taking over keeping pressure on his head wound in the meantime.

Gaby produced gauze and a length of tape from the box, efficiently bandaging the wound in a matter of minutes. Napoleon was relieved when it looked like the bleeding had mostly stopped and the gauze didn’t stain through with red immediately.

Gaby grabbed a water bottle and handed it to Illya, before opening the other one and letting Napoleon take a few sips and finishing the bottle herself.

Napoleon forced himself to come out of high alert mode and deliberately relaxed back against the wall, even though their situation was rapidly deteriorating. There was nothing they could do at the moment in the absence of medical help anyway, other than grab what rest they could and hope for the best.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get darker and the team learns more about their captor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mention of past sexual assault and things generally getting dark.
> 
> Also i don't really know how the KGB treat their prisoners so I am taking a lot of creative licence. Feel free to correct me if I am off the mark. As always feedback makes my day! Please leave a comment if you like the story or have any constructive criticism :)

The box also had six sandwiches. Napoleon suspected it was his hunger and exhaustion talking, but they had been surprisingly good. Illya had no complaints either, judging by the way he scarfed down both of his in a matter of minutes.

Napoleon had suffered the indignity of being fed by Gaby, after he patiently waited for her to finish her first sandwich.

“The man he showed me was Ivan Petrov. He was well respected agent in KGB back when I was new.” Illya surprisingly volunteered the information before Napoleon could ask. Illya may avoid what he deemed unnecessary conversations, but he seldom held pertinent information back from the team. “I was asked to work with him. He was expert in long term undercover operations and he would train me for mission in America, in New York. He already had many undercover identities there, I would join in one of his companies in construction work.”

“Okay, what went wrong?” Gaby asked, munching on her second sandwich slowly. She had offered it to both Illya and Napoleon citing their relative sizes before eventually giving up and eating when they point blank refused to eat her share.

“I notice odd pattern. He would go away thrice a week. Every week. Timing changed, location changed….but three meetings every week, always around 2 hours. I got suspicious.”

Gaby nodded doubtfully, “Did you speak to him about it?”

Illya looked at her as if she was crazy, “No of course not, why should I? He would have lied anyway if he knew what was good for him. I reported him to my handler.”

Napoleon wasn’t surprised, Illya tried to do things by the book as much as possible even now, and Napoleon imagined that when he was younger he might have been more rigid. Desperate to excel and clear himself of his family’s shame, the young agent had probably considered it a chance to prove his loyalty. There were times when Napoleon regretted his comments to Illya at the café, after he realized how much of a raw wound it was even now. He had never apologized for them either. He would when they got out of here.

“And then? You said he was executed?” Napoleon wondered how things had escalated so quickly.

“He got taken from where we were the next day. I didn’t hear anything about him till months later when they told me he was executed. He confessed to taking money in exchange for some secrets but did not give me details. They said too long in this country has corrupted him.”

Napoleon considered the new information carefully. Andrew may have had some business dealings with Ivan, but he certainly seemed too emotionally invested for someone avenging the death of a colleague. Andrew didn’t sound Russian but that didn’t eliminate the probability of a family connection. Napoleon had his suspicions, but he wouldn’t be sure of anything right now. 

Gaby threw up her hands in frustration, “That doesn’t make sense, why is he blaming you? It's not like you killed him.”

Gaby might be good at reading people but she also frequently made the mistake of thinking all people were rational. Napoleon thought that the mechanic in her wished more people operated as predictably as cars did. “You do know, Andrew isn’t exactly playing with a full deck of cards, right?” Napoleon reminded her mildly.

Gaby looked at him hopefully, “But its good we have this information, right? Napoleon, come on, you can figure out how to play him.”

Napoleon appreciated the confidence, but he had no idea what to do.

“Gaby, you cannot play crazy people.” Illya said simply, throwing an understanding look at Napoleon. “They do what they want.”

“All the same, I do think you should leave the talking to me as much as possible.” Napoleon said to Illya. 

Illya glanced at him shrewdly, “You think you know something. What is it?”

Napoleon was considering whether sharing his half-baked theory would do more harm than good when the door opens again and Andrew came in, flanked by Simon and another guard on each side. He threw a pleading look at Illya, and the man nodded sharply, wordlessly agreeing to back his play.

Gaby was busy trying to catch Simon’s eye and doing her best impression of a damsel in distress. Its enough to briefly amuse Napoleon and distract from his panic for a second. Simon caught her eye before glancing away quickly.

Andrew took a look at Illya and Gaby’s unbound hands and the bandage across Illya’s head.

“I see you have made our guests feel at home.” He turned to look at Simon thoughtfully.

“ I thought it was better to make sure there were no serious injuries. I can bind them, if you prefer.” Simon looked distinctly uncomfortable in Andrew’s presence now. Napoleon hopes Andrew doesn’t sense it.

“No, Simon, this is fine. Good to know you are thinking ahead. I appreciate initiative." Andrew smiled at him in his usual disconcerting manner. “Now, Mr Kuryakin, I wanted to apologize for my outburst earlier. I do hope that you are rested now?”

Illya glared at him disbelievingly but doesn’t say anything. 

“Of course, it was your fault" Andrew continued without missing a beat. "You should not have spoken of him like that.”

Nepoleon decided to go for broke, in the worst case scenario, he would only redirect the next beating to himself. “No of course not, Illya shouldn’t have. Ivan was a loyal man, wasn’t he?” He asked gently.

Andrew turned to him, “What did you say?”

“I said, Illya shouldn’t have called Ivan a traitor. That is the one thing he was not, right? He loved Russia, much like Illya himself does.”

“What do you know of Ivan?’ Andrew seemed stretched thinly somehow, as if he was seconds away from ripping himself and everyone else apart.

“I know he must have been a remarkable man, for you to love him as much as you do. You did, didn’t you?”

“I still love him, I cannot stop loving him.”

“Of course you do,” Napoleon said soothigly, happy to have Andrew talking.

“Don’t patronize me. How do you know he was loyal?”

“Only loyal men earn the kind of loyalty you have towards him. A traitor, a liar would not be worst all the trouble you went through.”

Andrew nodded vigorously, “Yes, when he was killed, I swore, I would find the man who betrayed him. I will make Kuryakin suffer as Ivan did at the end.” He turned to Illya again, and Napoleon was afraid for a second he would just start hitting him again.

Gaby interrupted before Napoleon could. “But he confessed to being a traitor. Why did he do that?”

Illya was the one who answered her question, “Because a KGB agent in love with a man would tell any lie to cover the fact that he was sneaking out to meet a man three times a week, even calling himself a traitor.” He looked disturbed, for the first time looking down instead of glaring at Andrew.

“Very clever, Mr Kuryakin. Not that it worked, though. They guessed what it had been. But he refused to give me up. He was tortured and humiliated. He was a proud man, he always said he wanted a dignified death, protecting his country. But instead, because of you, a powerful man was brought low. And Mr Kuryakin, so will you, by the time I am done with you, you will wish you were dead.”

Napoleon was fast losing any fleeting control he had gained, “Yes, it was a terrible thing that happened to Ivan,” he started desperately. “But surely, you can see that its not his fault. He didn’t know…he believed the confession to this day.”

“He didn’t even give Ivan a chance to explain, just ratted him out for sucking up to the bosses. He’s pathetic.”

“Then why are you so fixated on him? Why did you want to kiss him?” Napoleon grasped at a thought that has been bugging him from the beginning.

Andrew looked briefly confused, “I wanted to humiliate him.”

“Maybe, but I think you also wanted to kiss him,” Napoleon heard the words he said as though they were spoken by a stranger and felt horrified even as he continued.

“I think you started by hating him but then you tracked his entire career and now…” His thoughts formed as he spoke, making the connections quickly “Now, he reminds you of Ivan, a good agent, a good man. Loyal to his country, to the ones he cares for.”

Andrew hesitated slightly, enough to give Napoleon hope before his face hardened again. “How dare you compare him to my Ivan? He is a worm and I will prove it.”

He turned to Simon, face a mask of ugly fury, “Bring him in front of me."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Non Con starts in this chapter, so please skip if you have any concerns. Also please let me know if any additional tags/warnings are needed
> 
> As always, criticism is welcome and comments make my day. This is my first time writing such a story, and would love to know if its worth reading.

Gaby seriously considered the wisdom of just going over and at least trying to kick Andrew in the balls. She knew very well she would be stopped but maybe even a minor distraction would be all that Illya needed to gain the upper hand.

She had almost moved when she realized that Illya was trying to catch her eye from where he knelt on the ground in front of Andrew. And was now shaking her his head at her subtly but in a distinctly annoyed manner. So was Napoleon, when she glanced at him. She wondered whether she had become this predictable to her teammates. And just how she had become the most hot-headed in a team comprised of two men, one of whom was a thief with impulse control issues and the other had destroyed enough hotel rooms in his anger for that particular occurrence to merit having a code in their mission reports to Waverly.

Andrew was standing in front of Illya now. She snorted internally at the thought that even kneeling, Illya’s head came almost to Andrew’s shoulders.

She didn’t know how to process all the information she had learned about their captor in the last few minutes. Obviously, the loss of his lover had driven the man crazy, which would be a lot more understandable if he wasn't currently making their lives a living hell.

Illya was staring at the ground now again. For the first time since their capture, he seemed reluctant to meet Andrew's eyes. She wondered if he was feeling guilty.

“Well, Mr Kuryakin.” Andrew grabbed Illya by the hair yet again, forcing Illya to look at him. “You have been extremely quiet. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Illya didn’t respond for a few long seconds. Then he muttered, “I didn’t know, I thought he was a traitor. They said it was easy to be disloyal, when you are exposed for too long to…” He trailed off, falling short of apologizing. Gaby doubted it would have helped anyway.

“Ah, yes! You are told a lot of tales of western corruption, are you not? I wonder if your former colleagues would consider you corrupted now? You have been running with an American and a German for how long now? More than two years?”

“You know all this already. Why ask?” Illya responded angrily, his own temper getting the best of him.

“Yes, I know a lot about you, Kuryakin. People like you, you think you are always right. You didn’t even bother asking Ivan for an explanation. He liked you, you know. He used to talk to me about how you were smart, would make a good agent in a few years. He wanted to help you. And you didn’t even bother to check what happened to him, when they took him, did you? You went about your daily life, having ruined two lives forever.”

“I did not know,” Illya repeated, a little sadly, to Gaby’s ears.

“No, of course you didn’t. If you had, you expect me to believe you would have kept our secret? That you are a secret romantic? Or would you just have betrayed him anyway for a pat on the back from your bosses?”

Illya opened his mouth and looked like he would defend himself for a few seconds but seemed to decide against it.

“Well, Mr Kuryakin?" Andrew seemed to gain some confidence from Illya's silence. "Can you at least tell me you would not have betrayed him if you knew the truth? Or would you have thought him disgusting, like the men who took him away? Say something!”

“I don’t know,” Illya said again, a little helplessly. “I was young, I don’t know what I would have done. I am sorry.” The words seemed torn from him.

“Do you think Ivan would appreciate any of this?” Napoleon broke into the conversation again, his tone taking on a pleading quality. Gaby didn’t think appealing to Andrew's better instincts could work, but then again, Napoleon was the expert in manipulation, not her.

“No, I suppose he wouldn’t,” Andrew seemed to consider it for a second before shaking his head angrily, “But Ivan isn’t here anymore, is he? This is between me and Mr Kuryakin.”

He turned to Illya again, “You don’t know? You expect me to believe that a respectable agent of KGB would not have any strong opinions about his actions? You expect me to believe you would not have found it disgusting?”

Napoleon interrupts again, “He is not as inflexible as you believe. He knows I have slept with men before, and he has not reported me.” Andrew and Illya turned to look at him sharply. Gaby kept herself from gasping, knowing how difficult it must have been for Napoleon to make that confession in front of Illya. He was certainly playing every card in his hand that had even a remote chance of working.

“Is that true, Mr Kuryakin?”

“Was none of my business” Illya muttered quietly. Gaby could not tell if he knew all along or was playing along with whatever game Napoleon was trying. She wasn’t even sure which was better right now.

“Hmmm….that is interesting. However, that doesn’t really change matters, does it?”

“Of course not!” Napoleon finally seemed to be losing his cool as well, “You don’t want to know the truth about him or what he would have done, you just want to hurt someone, even if they were the least responsible for what happened to Ivan.”

“Quiet, Mr Solo,” Andrew remarked almost pleasantly, “If those are not the last words I hear from you for a while, Simon here will break your jaw in at least two places. That would be difficult to handle in a place like this wouldn’t it?

He turned to Illya again, “This is between you and me. And we are back to what I asked you back at the warehouse. What would you do to keep these two alive?”

Illya looked more defeated than Gaby had ever seen before, “I am sorry for what happened to Ivan. What do you want me to do now? I cannot change past.”

Andrew leaned down in front of him, close enough for their faces to touch again. “Do you know what all they did to him in that prison? For people disgusted by homosexuals, they certainly were keen to take advantage of him.”

Gaby felt sick to her stomach as she imagined it. And even worse when she realized where this was headed, although this was what she had feared would happen. Andrew reached down and opened his belt, and then his fly in slow deliberate motions, before pushing down his pants to the ground.

“He did whatever he could to keep them from learning about me. What would you do to protect your friends?” Andrew stood in front of Illya in his briefs, taunting the man.

Illya stared at him in disbelief for a few seconds, and Gaby must have made some movement because she saw that Simon moved to take a firm hold of her, grabbing her hands behind her.

“Please,” She whispered to him, “Please, you have to stop this, he is crazy.” Simon refused to look her in the eye but turned her body away, as if to stop her from watching what would happen next.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could still see Illya reaching for the man’s underwear. She looked at Napoleon, but he seemed paralyzed too. She fought with Simon to turn back to Illya. She would be damned if she abandoned him at this time, even if she couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“Close your eyes, Gaby.” The quiet instruction came from Illya himself. She angrily shook her head.

“For me.” Illya insisted before turning back to Andrew and pulling down his briefs.

Gaby shut her eyes as requested, but that didn’t stop her from hearing every single sound in the room, amplified in the darkness. She heard the sound of cloth rusting, and then the wet sounds of a blowjob start. She thought she heard Illya gagging but was afraid to open her eyes to check. A few seconds later, Andrews moans filled the room, and she could not remember a single instance in her life when she had felt more helpless. She gave up trying to fight Simon and leaned against him as the noises continued. Even through the escalating sounds from Andrew for the next few minutes, she thought she heard a small sound from Napoleon towards the end, breaking her heart even further.


	9. Chapter 9

Napoleon couldn’t bring himself to look away and watched as Andrew finally finished with a groan. He had a firm grip on Illya’s head, taking care to avoid the bloody bandage, but not allowing Illya to pull away for several seconds as he came into his mouth. When he did finally let go, Illya turned his head and spit what he could onto the floor beside him. Napoleon could see that the cut on his lip had reopened and red was now streaked across Illya’s chin, and on the floor in his spittle.

Napoleon's heart was racing as if he had just finished running for miles. He felt strangely hollowed out, as if someone had scooped out all his insides and replaced it with straw. He was torn between wanting to scream and rage and just curling into a corner, and not doing anything for the next few days.

Illya on the other hand looked surprisingly calm even as he wiped off the mess on his face with his right hand. Napoleon could not even notice the tell-tale trembling of his hand, which might have at least been reassuring in its familiarity. But no, Illya just continued to stay on his knees like a cardboard cut-out of himself, even as Andrew redressed himself hastily.

On the other side of the room, Simon was still holding onto Gaby loosely. Her face was wet with tears, but she had given up trying to argue or fight after the first few minutes.

Oddly enough, Napoleon didn’t think he had seen Gaby ever cry before. Not that she was shy about breaking out the waterworks as a distraction or a tool. “A woman crying is a powerful tool,” She had told him once with a smirk, handing over the access pass she had liberated from the burly security guard at the gallery whose shoulder she had been crying on just five minutes prior. “It terrifies even the most hardened of men and brings out some protective instincts. It’s so very easy to manipulate men.” 

But the previous times she had looked different, with a few tears artfully rolling down her face like in the movies. Now, Napoleon could see her face seemed completely different, eyes red and face distorted somehow, and he could still hear small hitches in her breathing. But even as he watched, she deliberately turned so she was leaning into Simon now. It was subtle enough that Andrew probably would not notice anything unusual, but Simon was definitely enraptured by the beautiful woman crying into his shoulders.

Illya spoke up just as Andrew dressed himself again and started to leave the room. “Did that make you feel better?” The question didn’t seem sarcastic or angry, more genuinely curious.

Andrew briefly paused on the way out, “I don’t know yet. But don’t worry, I will.” He didn’t seem very sure of his statement though, and Napoleon thought there was something almost embarrassed in his manner.

Illya got up from the floor almost as soon as Andrew left the room.

“I want to use the washroom,” He told the guard standing next to Napoleon. The man in question looked puzzled at being addressed. 

But now Illya seemed to be getting angry as well. “Well, I have earned trip to washroom, no? Or should I suck your cock as well?” The words were surprisingly crude coming out of Illya's mouth, and at least shocked Simon into action.

He nodded to the other man, who quickly led Illya out of the room, one hand firmly on his gun.

“And now you are an accomplice in the sexual assault of an UNCLE Agent.” Napoleon remarked to Simon casually as the three of them were left alone in the room. “Hope you are proud of yourself.”

Simon didn’t bother to defend himself to Napoleon. He was a lot younger than he seemed at first, now that Napoleon took a closer look. He was a big man, maybe an inch shorter than Illya, but definitely at least 20 pounds heavier than either Napoleon or Illya which had made him look older. The way he was looking at Gaby pleadingly now though, Napoleon wouldn’t be surprised if he was younger than 25.

“Simon, you must know that Andrew is out of control.” Gaby gently pointed out, she was still standing right next to him, and laid her hand on his arm, not far from where his gun was resting in his holster. Napoleon thought he saw a sharp look in Gaby’s eyes, and wondered for a second if she was planning to take the gun off him. He mentally pleaded with her to not do anything stupid, even with a gun, they were outnumbered and disadvantaged. They had a better chance if they could get Simon on their side, at least a little bit.

Gaby seemed to be thinking along similar lines, because she didn’t do anything, even if Napoleon knew it would have taken her only a few seconds to take the gun off Simon.

“It was not supposed to be like this,” Simon said defensively. “It was supposed to be a simple job.”

“Is that what he told you?” Gaby asked sympathetically.

“Yes, he said he just needed some information from him. Then we would leave you back somewhere and you could escape.”

“And it didn’t strike you that maybe in that case your faces should have been covered?” Napoleon asked disbelievingly.

Simon looked shocked for a second, “He said it didn’t matter, we would all be gone before you got help.”

“And I suppose he gave us both your names to be more sporting? Give us a better chance of finding you later? Simon is your real name isn’t it?”

“Yes..but” Simon was starting to look worried now.

“Simon, you must be very stupid if you think you are getting out of this alive.” He sneered at the young man.

“Napoleon!” Gaby stepped in to play the good cop. “He didn’t know. He has been helping us, he is not like the others.” She turned to him, “Please, help us and we will help you as well. When this is over, we will make sure you get a chance…. this doesn’t have to end badly for all of us. We can tell you how to reach our boss, his name is Waverly. He can make sure you will not spend the rest of your life in prison.”

“Assuming, of course, that Andrew doesn’t just plan to kill all of you, anyway.” Napoleon added.

Simon's face was wavering, and Napoleon was almost sure they had him, when the door opened and Illya came in, followed by the other guard.

Napoleon noticed that Illya had washed his face and hands, and the front of his shirt was wet, as if he had tried to clean that as well.

Simon looked at all of them again, clearly shaken. He didn’t say anything further as both men left the room, locking the door behind them.

Illya predictably refused to make eye contact with either of them and sat down against the back wall of the room, as far away from the two of them as possible in the small room. He moved a little gingerly, and Napoleon worried again about any internal injuries from the earlier beating. He had almost forgotten about that under the onslaught of terrible things that kept happening in this godforsaken place.

Gaby wasn’t having any of it though, and went to Illya immediately, leaning into his side and wrapping her arms around his shoulders carefully. Illya froze for a few seconds, but Gaby refused to let go, and he eventually relaxed against her slightly, burying his face against her neck. Napoleon felt useless, but he went to sit beside the two of them, not touching but as close as he dared at the moment.


	10. Chapter 10

Gaby wriggled her back slightly against the wall to find a more comfortable position, but it only ended up aggravating the multitude of aches and pains across her body. Her head wasn’t actively hurting anymore, but still felt vaguely heavy and uncomfortable. The cut on her arm was throbbing with increasing pain, which she hoped wasn’t an infection because they really could not afford any more problems right now.

She snuck a look at Illya, trying to ascertain if he was in any immediate danger from his injuries. His head had stopped bleeding a while back, and he didn’t seem too stiff in his movements. Then again, she had seen him run five miles to an extraction point with a gunshot wound to his shoulder, so she really couldn’t be sure how he was doing. The cut on his lower lip was still bleeding lightly, tracking red across his chin repeatedly despite his attempts to wipe it off with his sleeve.

His face was still blotchy, and the few words he had spoken after Andrew left sounded hoarse and painful. Her mind kept offering up high resolution technicolor replays of what had happened to Illya over and over, even if she hadn’t actually seen anything. She struggled against the need to cry as another wave of helplessness washed over her. She just wanted to be away from this god forsaken place, in some safehouse, just the three of them without any sadistic maniacs around. She would even take an extended stay at a hospital without complaint, even though she normally hated everything about them, the pervasive antiseptic smell, the blank walls and ceilings and the impassive faces of doctors and nurses as one of her teammates lay on an operating table. But now, she would welcome sitting in Waverly’s office as he unloaded on all three of them for disregarding his orders.

Illya and Gaby had been sitting quietly for a while now, and the silence wasn’t a comfortable one. Napoleon had tried to start a conversation after the guards left at first but Illya firmly ignored him, responding politely but with monosyllables till the other man eventually gave up and settled for a nap on the floor. Gaby thought he looked distinctly awkward as he slept, unable to lie down properly with his hands still bound behind him, but she could hear the soft snores and she didn’t grudge him a bit of rest. She wondered if she could convince Simon to set Napoleon free. She doubted it, and even if he did agree, she wasn’t sure how much help it would be anyway. 

She glanced at Illya yet again, and this time he caught her looking at his bleeding lips. She looked away quickly, feeling inexplicably guilty.

Illya snorted lightly, “You want to say something, say it. You are not usually shy.”

“Oh, now you want to talk? You seemed fine ignoring Napoleon when he tried to talk.” Gaby couldn’t help pointing out, perhaps unfairly. She could not even imagine what was going on in Illya’s mind at the moment. But it had also been painful to watch Napoleon desperately try over and over to get Illya to talk to him as Illya did his best impression of a brick wall.

Illya glanced at their teammate, perhaps a little sadly. “There was nothing to say. Cowboy, he likes to talk. But sometimes talking doesn’t help.”

“I think he’s afraid you are angry with him.” Gaby pointed out carefully.

“Angry? Why would I be angry?” Illya looked startled at even the possibility. 

“He confessed to a lot of things that wasn’t easy for him to say, you know?” Gaby watched Illya closely. She hadn’t been lying when she had told Napoleon that Illya would not be averse to knowing about his feelings, but she had no way to be sure. “He is a private person, when it comes to some things anyway. He must have hated having to say all that in front of you.”

Illya seemed surprised at the thought. “He is not shy, either. But yes, he should not have had to say his personal details to Andrew.”

Sometimes talking to her teammates felt like talking to a couple of not overly bright children. “I actually meant you, Illya. I don’t think Napoleon cares much what Andrew thinks of him.”

“Gaby, I am not idiot. I know he sleeps with men. If you think I would report him to Waverly, that is not fair.” Illya sounded defensive. “None of my business who he spends free time with.”

Gaby sighed again, sometimes she thinks the only way to get the message through would be to yell, _‘he loves you, you idiot’_ directly into Illya’s ear. Knowing the two of them, that might still end up being too subtle.

“That is not what I meant, Illya. I know you wouldn’t report him to anyone. And I am pretty sure Waverly knows.”

“Oh. Then what?” Illya seemed genuinely curious now. 

“Never mind, Illya. I will tell you the same thing I told him. The both of you need to talk. Preferably far away from this horror show.”

“I also want to leave this place, Gaby.” Illya admitted quietly, his voice breaking slightly.

“Illya, I am so sorry.” Gaby leaned into him, resting her head on his right shoulder carefully.

“He was right, you know. I could have talked to Ivan.” Illya said quietly. “He was a kind man. He used to take me to a diner near the construction site in the evening, always ordered enough food for four people. He said I was too skinny to be KGB agent. I could have asked him before I talked to my handler.”

“You couldn’t have known, Illya.” Gaby tried to reassure him.

“And yet Cowboy knew what happened in a few minutes. Maybe I am the terrible spy, not him.”

“He was able to guess in hindsight, years later, and that too after meeting Andrew. You could not have known at the time.”

Gaby looked over at Napoleon, she would not put it past him to fake sleeping, but no, she could still hear the perfectly even breathing. She imagined he was probably just as exhausted and wrung out as the rest of them.

Illya was looking at her consideringly when she turned back to look at him, “Gaby if there’s something you want to tell me about him, you should. I cannot read minds.”

“I think you should talk to Napoleon, Illya. Don’t shut him out, please.”

Illya didn’t respond. Gaby hoped that she had not somehow made the situation worse between them.


	11. Chapter 11

Fortunately, they had been mostly ignored for last day after Andrew left the room . Simon had come by a few times to give them food and escort each of them to the washroom one by one. But he was always accompanied by one of the other goons, much to Napoleon’s frustration. Simon was his last hope of getting out of this place alive.

He had hoped initially that Waverly would somehow find them, but he knew their handler must be struggling if he hadn’t found this place by now. He had barely any information to go on anyway. Napoleon pushed away the niggling thought that Andrew had too much information on the team. If there was an inside man in U.N.C.L.E helping Andrew, he was probably sabotaging the rescue effort as well.

He couldn’t even sure of what Andrew’s end game was, if the man had even thought past getting his hands on Illya and hurting him. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if the man was completely insane and planned to just kill all of them, even his own men after he was done with his vendetta.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help feeling a sort of disgusted pity at their captor. His vivid imagination painted the picture of a young man in love, terrified of having his secrets revealed to the world. Napoleon had had similar fears himself, knowing he only had to make one mistake to get caught. When he had been initially arrested, he had been almost relived it was for stealing and not his other indiscretions.

He had managed to outgrow the fears for the most part, though. He knew he was good enough at his job for some weaknesses to be overlooked, even by people like Sanders who didn’t especially like him. But Andrew hadn’t had the chance to do that, instead he had his worst nightmares brought to life and lost someone he loved. He imagined that was enough of a reason to drive most people crazy. But now Andrew was hurting someone Napoleon loved, and he would gladly crush the man’s skull in his bare hands if he got the opportunity.

Lost in his thoughts, Napoleon was surprised when Illya carefully came over and sat right next to him. His surprise upgraded itself to shock when Illya actually started to speak. His voice still sounded painful and Napoleon winced in sympathy.

“You know I am not angry at you?” The line sounded as though it had been rehearsed in Illya’s head a few times. Napoleon turned sharply to look at Gaby, who promptly looked away and pretended not to exist.

“Whatever Gaby has been telling you, Illya, I assure you she’s wrong.” An angry sounding huff escaped Gaby but she steadfastly refused to meet his glare.

“Okay, then.” Illya seemed relieved to be let off the hook for a second and Napoleon thought for a that was the end of their little talk. Then the other man seemed to visibly steel himself. Napoleon sometimes got the impression speaking more than strictly necessary was physically painful to his teammate.

“But to be clear. I am not angry at you. I do not care if you sleep with men. I would not report you for something like that.” His tone wavered for a second before continuing. “Ivan….was a mistake, I didn’t report him because I thought he was wrong, I wouldn’t….”

Napoleon found himself surprised by his teammate sometimes. He had gotten used to Illya charging headfirst into dangerous physical situations, but he wouldn't have expected him to start a discussion of this sort. It felt brave, in a way Napoleon himself rarely was. He avoided talks like these, preferring to deflect with sarcasm or wit instead. A tight knot of worry in his chest that had formed at Andrew's earlier accusation about his own motivations loosened at the other man's words. He hadn't even had time to fully process his fear of rejection by Illya but it had been there regardless.

He imagined himself being brave for a second too, imagined saying the words _“I love you”_ out loud to Illya. Maybe, just maybe Illya wouldn't reject him for that either.

“Of course, you wouldn’t…Illya. I know that.”

“Then why are you being strange? You look scared.”

“I am scared, Illya. We are under the control of sadist who is not playing with a full of cards. I have no idea what he’s planning next and nothing I am doing is working. I have been utterly useless for the past day.” He realized he was shouting and stopped himself. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was a much as he could manage at the moment. Gaby gave him a disappointed look from across the room.

Illya seemed unconvinced, “We have been in bad situations before, Cowboy. We will be again.”

Napoleon found himself getting comforted by the matter of fact way in which Illya spoke the latter part of that statement. If Illya still believed they were going to get out of this place alive, then he was just going to have to suck it up and regain his control.

“That’s comforting, Peril. You’re a real poet…you have a way with words.” He winced as he unconsciously fell back into his age-old habit of glib remarks.

Illya didn’t seem to be buying it but fortunately let the topic go. “We will be fine, Cowboy. Maybe Waverly will find your little message.”

“You saw that?”

“You are not that good. Lucky we are dealing with amateurs.”

Gaby murmured her agreement from her corner. “It might help, assuming of course he can read it…. your handwriting was terrible.”

“You try writing with a pebble with hands tied and get back to me.” Napoleon retorted, feeling oddly defensive.

Illya snorted lightly and leaned back. A few seconds later Napoleon could barely out a low whisper from him. _“I am never angry with you, cowboy.”_

Napoleon fought the urge to cry. He hasn’t done that since he was a young soldier who had just killed his first enemy. He wouldn’t start again now.

Gaby came over to sit next to Illya, glaring at Napoleon all the while. It didn’t matter, there were some things he just couldn’t do. The best he could do is somehow get the two of them out of here alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback really makes my day! Leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed the story so far


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay, but like I said, this story is not abandoned. Hope the chapter isn't too disappointing given the wait.

Illya glanced at Napoleon shuffling repeatedly against his restraints. The man had been constantly in the handcuffs for the last four days, except presumably during his trips to the bathroom. At least Illya hoped that they were unbinding him then and that someone was not holding it for him as he peed, though he wouldn’t it past their captors at this point. Illya imagined the other arms and shoulders must be getting pretty uncomfortable. Napoleon had a bad back. Illya could tell from his posture sometimes, even if he hadn’t heard the other man complain about it once. He knew it would become unbearable if he didn’t something about it.

“Come here, cowboy.” He said beckoning Napoleon to sit beside him.

Napoleon looked at him somewhat suspiciously which amused Illya to no small extent.

“Why?”

“I want to break your neck and I don’t feel like moving.”

Napoleon snorted but came to sit near him anyway. Illya guided him with one hand till the other man’s back was turned to him. Napoleon startled badly at the first touch of Illya’s hand against his shoulder.

“Relax, Solo. It is only a backrub.” Illya said, still entertained by the other man’s reaction.

“A backrub?” Napoleon squeaked.

“Your posture is terrible, you are tense. You back is a mess.”

“He is a mess.” Gaby muttered from her spot. Illya looked at her, somewhat puzzled. She had been shorter with Napoleon than usual for the last two days, especially given that she was the one who asked him to talk to Napoleon in the first place. He knew there was something going on between the two of them, but he wasn’t sure what exactly. 

He continued to work some of the knots out of the other man’s shoulder, which felt hard as a rock at the moment. He had not been wrong about the tension. Under his hand, some of the tightest knots loosened slightly, but he could still sense the tension in his teammate.

He took the opportunity to take a closer look at the other man’s hand. Napoleon had not been lying when he said that the fingers had been set well by their captors, but there was still some residual selling in the two fingers. It must certainly still be very tender, if not actually painful.

He wondered if the other man was still ill at ease around him after their last discussion. He hoped not. He had meant it when he said he didn’t care if Solo had slept with men. He was not as innocent as Napoleon and Gaby always seemed to think. They seemed to forget he had grown up in a house where sex wasn’t a secret.

He had known what his mother had did to keep them both alive and fed before most children found themselves discussing kissing in hushed tones with their best friends. He had been angry with her a long time but had eventually understood her actions if he couldn't forgive them. If Napoleon thought the thought of two consenting men sleeping together disgusted him, he was wrong. He had seen far worse before he had even reached the age of thirteen.

Not to mention that he wasn’t a monk, despite what his teammates believed. Just because he was not as obvious about it as Napoleon Solo, didn’t mean he was celibate. He had no problems going to bar to spend the night with some willing woman. He had even paid for it a few times, when he was desperate enough. He made sure the women weren’t being forced into it, but he had no reservations beyond that.

A well developed sense of self preservation had kept him from ever indulging his curiosity with other men, but he had never denied it existed. Now Napoleon around him, smart, beautiful, tempting…it was getting harder to resist. It was impossible not to ponder exactly how pleasing it would be to be allowed what dozens of other women and men has experienced.

His attraction towards Gaby had been powerful, and he had fallen in love with her fast and hard, more than he had ever experienced before of after. However, it had faded just as quickly, leaving only warmth and affection behind. But with Napoleon his feelings grew far more slowly, and he suspected it would take a long time it to fade, if it did at all.

He tired to shake away his somber thoughts. Now was not the time to be wallow in useless thoughts. They were in one of the most dangerous situations they had ever been in. His stomach churned as he remembered the strange taste of the other man in his mouth, his rising panic as he gagged. He had thought for a few seconds he would suffocate like that…die in the most undignified position he could imagine. He supposed Andrew would find that poetic justice.

The thought of Ivan was just as unsettling. He hadn’t remembered the other man in years, he had barely spared a thought for him even when he had heard the news of his execution. He wondered what that said about him, that he had forgotten one of the few people in his life who had been genuinely kind to him, someone who had never asked for anything in return.

Ivan had been a good man, he had known that. But back then he had been so arrogant, so sure in himself and in the KGB. He hadn’t cared about anything other than duty and proving himself to the best, the most loyal. And he had doomed a man whose only mistake was falling in love to torture and death. He would have to live with that from now.

Napoleon let out a soft sign of relief as Illya finally managed to loosen a large knot a little lower on his back, it was tricky to reach it with his hands blocking the way, but Illya had strong hands. He ignored the slight pain in his chest from his cracked ribs protesting the movement. It was worth it to give the other man some relief. He could see just how tense Napoleon had been for the last few days. He supposed he had never been in a situation he couldn’t talk his way out of before.

He was starting to lose hope that he would make it out of here alive, he knew Andrew would never let him go. But perhaps he could get Napoleon and Gaby out of here somehow. If Andrew’s obsession with him went beyond simple hatred as Napoleon seemed to think, maybe he could take advantage of that, get the other man to release his teammates. He snorted at the thought of him seducing Andrew, it fell considerably outside his skill set.

Napoleon glanced back at him curiously at the sound.

“Nothing, cowboy. Just wishing I had some of your skills.” He said carelessly, not stopping to think.

“Well, never thought I would hear you say that. What particular skill are we talking about?”

“Never mind.”

Gaby was also looking at him curiously. 

“I meant sewing." he said, quickly, the first thing he could think of to deflect from his true thoughts. "Did you know he fixes all of those expensive shirts by himself when they rip?” 

“No,” Gaby exclaimed, looking at Napoleon with amusement. “You are kidding.”

“No, he has giant sewing kit. More colors of threads than I have seen at a tailor’s shop.”

“Hey, you said you wouldn’t mention that to anyone on pain of death.” Despite his annoyed tone, Napoleon seemed happy for the change in mood too.

Laughing along with Gaby at Napoleon made him feel better than he had for a while. He was truly glad for the two of them, however long they had left together.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their brief reprieve did not last forever, just as he had known it wouldn’t. The next time Andrew and two of the guards entered the room, his heart sank at the other man’s stormy expression.

“It seems we have less time than we thought.” Their captor said angrily. “My informant says your meddlesome boss has discovered my name and identity somehow. It will not be long before he finds this place.”

Illya's brief sense of relief was quickly overridden with anger. Of course, Andrew knew someone within U.N.C.L.E. He could not have managed any of this without inside help.

Andrew talked to Illya directly, “Come with me now. Don’t try anything unless you want to be responsible for both of their deaths.” He nodded jerkily at both Napoleon and Gaby.

Despite himself, Illya found himself unable to move, knowing what was probably coming next. He should be grateful that at least Andrew did not plan to humiliate him in front of Napoleon and Gaby, but he still couldn’t walk away from the relative safety of his teammates. His body wouldn’t budge an inch even as his tried to get up.

He could sense Napoleon tensing up again beside him, and he had a brief hysterical moment as he thought that his massage had been wasted after all. He knew he was starting to lose control and took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

When he looked up again, Andrew had grabbed the gun from his other lackey and was pointing it straight at Napoleon’s head. It was enough to shake him out of his lethargy.

“Okay, I will come.” Pushing himself to his feet was the hardest thing he had done in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback really makes my day, so please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed the story.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end of the fic....thanks for the support for the story!

Illya tried to keep calm. It would be fine, Waverly was close to finding them, he just needed to stall, to keep his teammates alive a little longer. He would do that, no matter what the price. Napoleon and Gaby would live, that was enough.

Illya kept his eyes firmly on Andrew's shoes as he struggled to get to his feet. It was better than looking at their captors crazed look or the gun pointed at Napoleon. That was his only excuse for how he missed the sudden rush of movement from his side. When he finally glanced up, he was shocked to see Gaby’s small form had crashed into Andrew’s. She had managed to get one hand on the gun but hadn’t managed to wrench it off the other man’s grip yet.

As he watched in stunned silence, the gun went off with a small pop. Andrew and Gaby were grappling far too close to each other for him to make out who had been hit, but a couple of seconds later Gaby had managed to liberate the gun from Andrew and was pointing it straight at the other man’s head. Illya glanced at the other two men in the room, who were watching the action playing out uselessly. Simon still had his gun in his hand, but seemed to be doing absolutely nothing with it. The other man was also glancing around helplessly, since it was his weapon now being brandished by Gaby.

As he took a closer look at her, he realized with that the shot had hit her after all. Blood was blooming from her left thigh, although fortunately it wasn’t rushing fast enough for it to be an arterial shot. She completely ignored it, keeping her focus on Andrew.

“Simon, what are you waiting for?” Andrew asked in annoyance. “Shoot her, you fool.”

Simon still didn’t move, much to Illya’s confusion. 

“Simon, give the gun to Illya. Now.” Napoleon spoke with complete confidence, as if he expected to be obeyed.

Simon hesitated for a second longer, but quickly stepped closer and pressed his gun into Illya’s lax hand. Illya had no idea what was going on but having a weapon in his hand for the first time in days gave him no small amount of confidence. He quickly aimed it at the other man in the room.

“Good, Simon. Excellent. You are doing the right thing. Do you have the keys to my cuffs?” Napoleon sounded entirely calm, as if he was chatting about the weather.

“Simon, what on earth are you doing?” Andrew sounded furious, his face distorting in anger at the betrayal.

“I am sorry, Andrew. I didn’t agree to all this. I won’t spend the rest of my life in prison over some crazy shit like this.” Simon muttered as he pulled out the keys from his back pocket, quickly releasing Napoleon. He grabbed the handcuff from Simon, heading over to their other captor.

Simon spoke, “Joe, don’t fight. Andrew was planning to kill all of us. Just don’t fight and they will help us out, right?” He asked Gaby hesitantly.

“Yes, of course we will, Simon. I promise you.” Gaby assured. Illya could hear the pain in her voice even as she tried to speak steadily.

The other man also seemed to relax, standing perfectly still as Napoleon secured the cuffs behind him. His teammate then grabbed the pair hanging off the other man’s belt and put it on Andrew briskly. Andrew didn’t bother to fight, just watched the scene unfold in silent anger.

Napoleon didn’t waste a second in going to Gaby’s side, taking the gun away from her trembling form. He eased her into a sitting position on the floor, pressing a hand firmly to the wound on her thigh. She let out a small groan. Illya wanted to go to her and help, but he knew they were still in danger.

“How many other men in house now?” He asked Simon.

“Two, one standing guard outside, one in the living room.” Simon answered immediately. Illya watched the young man carefully for a couple of seconds but he sensed no deceit. Besides, if the man had wanted to kill them, he would have done it when he had a gun pointed at Gaby’s head.

“You come with me,” Illya said to Simon. Napoleon turned to look at him sharply. Illya nodded at him confidently. “You take care of Gaby. I can handle those two.” The other man nodded and turned his attention to Gaby.

It turned out to be easier than expected, and he only had to shoot one of them, that too non fatally, in the arm. With Simon’s help, he secured the two of them with rope. Simon showed him to the phone, where he quickly contacted Waverly and relayed the address given by Simon.

When he finally got back, the room was pretty much exactly as he had left it, only that Napoleon’s shirt was now tied securely around Gaby’s thigh. She was sitting on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her. Napoleon was sitting next to her in his undershirt, one hand wrapped around her shoulders comfortingly, although the other one was still holding the gun, loosely pointed in the direction of the two captives.

“Waverly says team will be here in 20 minutes.” Illya informed his teammates.

“Excellent.” Napoleon grinned at him, “You can always rely on the old chap for quick rescue.”

“Gaby?” Illya asked.

“I am fine, it’s just a scratch.” Gaby said.

“Well, no, lets not get carried away. It’s not scratch.” Napoleon corrected mildly. “It’s actually a fairly deep would. But it’s a through and through, so she’ll fine…. eventually. I imagine it’ll leave quite a fetching scar. Be an interesting conversation started next time you are at the beach.” Gaby looked concerned for the first time when he said that.

Illya relaxed, he had suspected the same, but it was nice to hear it in Napoleon’s comforting voice.

He finally forced himself to look at Andrew, sitting with his back against the wall. The murderous rage seemed to have passed, and he looked entirely calm as he sat there. Illya had a suppress a shudder at the sight. If it hadn’t been for Gaby…. He forced himself to let go of the rising revulsion at the thought of what had nearly happened. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that his team had come though for him again. He felt a sudden surge of gratitude for the two of them.

“I suppose I should commend you,” Andrew said quietly to Illya. “You won this fair and square. Of course, if I had been slightly more judicious in my selection of a team, it might have been a very different story.” He gave Simon a dirty glance. The other man winced slightly but held Andrew’s gaze defiantly.

“I didn’t agree to all this. To murder, to….” He broke off, uncomfortable. “You are a sick man.”

“Indeed, are you just realizing this now?” Andrews tone was mocking.

“Yes! I didn’t think know you were this crazy,” Simon turned to look at Gaby pleadingly. “ I swear, I didn’t know it was going to be like this. I didn’t mean for you to get shot.”

Gaby nodded at him comfortingly, “It’s okay, Simon. We will be fine. And we will keep our promise. I can’t say you will get off scot free…but we’ll make sure you get a chance. You won’t be an old man when you get out of prison.” She seemed entirely sincere. Illya wondered exactly what else he had missed that had been going on around them.

Illya glanced at Andrew again, having to steel himself to speak to the man who had tormented all of them. “You were right about one thing. Ivan was a good man. We can agree on that one thing.”

Napoleon looked annoyed and looked at him as if he was about to object. But Illya needed to say this, so he shook his head at his teammate. The other man settled. Illya continued.

“I am sorry he died. I wish I hadn’t reported him. I truly didn’t know.”

Andrew looked at him, surprised. Then he nodded, a bit sadly. “He didn’t deserve to die like that.”

“No, he didn’t.” Illya agreed.

Illya finally went to sit beside Gaby, feeling inexplicably tired. He desperately wanted to get out of this place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed the story!


	14. Chapter 14

Napoleon hadn’t even realized just how terrified he had been for every second of the last few days until the whole thing was over. The pervasive fear had been exhausting, testing his mental endurance well past its limits. After their stay under the mercy of their demented captor, even the bland walls, pervasive smell of antiseptic of their hospital felt more like a luxury than a punishment. He suspected he would tire of it soon but for now he was determined to savor the bone deep relief he was experiencing.

Of the three of them, he was the only to have been discharged from care so far, after a brief examination and fresh bindings for his fingers. He had completely forgotten about them and was mildly surprised when Illya had mentioned it to the medics pointedly as they hovered around him.

He wasn’t surprised that Illya was the one who had come out of it the worst. His teammate just seemed to have that sort of luck in general. It turned out that Andrew’s little temper tantrum had resulted in a concussion and three cracked ribs. Illya had also had some internal bleeding, clearly visible from the purple patch in his side when the medics had cut his shirt off. A few more days and they might have been life threatening in their own right. Napoleon pointedly kept himself from thinking of the other hurts Andrew had caused that wasn’t so clearly visible. He wasn’t ready to deal with all of it yet. 

Gaby had been slightly better off, although she had the early stages of an infection from the cut on her arm. He was glad that both he and Illya had spent hours almost daily training her in the last couple of years or the whole situation could have been a lot worse. He shuddered at the thought that they could so easily still have been in captivity. He had been frozen in panic when Andrew had come to get Illya the last time. He doubted he could have done what Gaby did, even had he been free. He would be grateful to her for the rest of his life.

Technically visiting hours were over, so he wouldn’t be allowed to see either of them but he had never let such minor inconveniences get in his way before. A five minute smiling conversation with the young nurse at the station later he was in Gaby's room.

Gaby was sitting up, flipping through a magazine, her leg elevated slightly onto a pillow.

“Hey, was it Daisy or Lana who you sweet talked into letting you in here?” She asked curiously when she looked up and saw him. “My bets on Daisy, she looks like an ice princess but I bet one complement from you would be enough to melt her. Lana on the other hand, sweet as a peach but I get the feeling she got your number pretty quickly. ”

“Actually, it was Lana.” Napoleon said, just to be petty. It had in fact been Daisy but there was no need for Gaby to get too full of herself. She had been right on a lot of things recently. “Although I look forward to melting the ice princess as well.”

“Hmm…” Gaby looked at him skeptically. “If you say so. Did you get a chance to talk to Waverly?”

“Yeah. Gave him a run down of what happened.”

“Did they find the mole?” Gaby’s lip curled unpleasantly at the question.

“Yeah, Simon was able to recognize him from a photo lineup. Waverly was madder than I have seen him in a long time.”

“He should be, it’s the worst security leak we have had that I can remember. Waverly runs a tight ship. I can't believe this got past him.”

“Yes, well apparently even U.N.C.L.E agents can be bribed, given enough money. And Andrew had that in spades. His family is old money and he is the sole heir.”

“I don’t even want to talk about that...monster,” Gaby murmured. “He was so angry, and so out of control. He had to have been mad, right? No sane person could do all that he did.”

“I wish it was that simple.” Napoleon mused out loud. “I have seen perfectly sane men do completely insane things. They somehow always manage to justify their actions in their own minds, the suffering those actions cause.” He had spent a lot of the last couple of days thinking about their captor, but he had yet to move past anything other than visceral revulsion and hatred.

“Like Andrew. Like the men who killed Ivan.” Gaby said quietly. “It just goes round and round, doesn’t it? Getting hurt and then hurting others.”

“Not always.” Napoleon felt a strong urge to comfort his teammate. “We could always break the cycle.”

“Do you really think Illya will be able to just move past what happened? My God, Napoleon, he made him…” Gaby voice choked off and she slapped the guard rails on the side her bed, wincing immediately when the violent motion jerked her leg from its position. Gaby was crying again, tears falling freely now.

“I don’t know, Gaby.” As much Napoleon he wanted to comfort his teammate, he respected her too much to lie to her. It wasn’t the first time he had seen someone get assaulted, and the simple truth of it was that sometimes it really could break men, no matter how strong they were. In fact, in his experience it was the strongest men who seemed to struggle with it the most, who pretended nothing happened until everything came crashing down around them eventually. He shuddered at the thought of that happening to Illya. “It’s not very easy to move on from.”

Gaby jerked her head viciously that. “No, he’s going to be fine.” Her voice was firm through the tears. “And you know how I know that?”

Napoleon shook his head, waiting for her response.

“Because we will help get through it. Or more specifically, you will. You are going to get your head out of your ass and talk to him. You don’t get to hide anymore. Not now. Not when he needs you.”

Napoleon stared at her disbelievingly, “You must be joking. You think after being sexually objectified and traumatized, what he needs to hear is that his teammate is also lusting after him? That should make him feel safe.”

Gaby frowned slightly. “And you are kidding yourself if think those two things are remotely connected. You are not lusting after him. Napoleon, you have been in love with the man for a long time now, even if you can’t admit it to yourself.”

Napoleon couldn’t let that pass. “I am perfectly capable of admitting it to myself, Gaby. However, the last thing I should be doing right now is putting another burden on him.”

“Have you considered that maybe he wouldn’t considerate a burden? That maybe he would like to know that he is loved, that he won’t be alone?” Gaby asked, voice painfully earnest.

Napoleon snorted derisively. “Gaby, sometimes I forget just how young you are. Life isn’t all wine and roses. Declarations of love don’t spontaneously make everything better.”

“Don’t condescend to me, I didn’t say it would. I know it would be a long difficult process. But Napoleon, I am not the one being a coward here. For that matter, neither is Illya. He told you he doesn’t care about any of it.” Gaby looked genuinely angry now.

“He doesn’t care in an abstract matter that I like men. That’s continents away from knowing that I l… like him.” Napoleon pointed out.

“You won’t know that until you try.” Gaby said, glancing out the small window on the side. “I am not that young… or naïve.” Her voice sounded disappointed to Napoleon’s ears.

Napoleon grimaced. “I am sorry, Gaby. That wasn’t fair.”

“I get it, Napoleon. God knows I can’t make you do anything that you don’t want to do.” She sounded resigned, which hurt worse than her earlier anger.

“I’ll think about it.” Napoleon didn’t know himself whether he was lying or not. He pulled the chair closer to the head of the bed, and felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay, I thought this was going to be the last chapter, but turns out i couldn't avoid just a little bit more angst before the ending! Hope you enjoy the chapter,

Illya thinks this might be the longest he had ever stayed in a hospital room. These are by no means the worst injuries he had suffered by a mile, but his usual tactics of scowling at the doctors and making vaguely threatening remarks about their general safety in his presence was a lot less effective when Gaby was sitting right next to him and scoffing at him. Regardless, even she had to admit eventually, he had recovered as much as he possibly could in here, and she had finally acquiesced to moving to a local safehouse instead.

The visceral relief at finally being able to escape this place was quickly being subdued by the thought that Waverly had benched the team for the next month, and he would be stuck for the foreseeable future in an enclosed space with Gaby and… Napoleon. The other man had made himself scarce around Illya since he had woken up at the hospital. Certainly not enough to be called out on, even by a vigilant Gaby. His teammate came by the hospital on a daily basis, but Illya yet to be alone with Napoleon. He always seemed to come by when there a plethora of doctors and nurses around and kept up a steady stream of dialogue the whole while. Illya was almost impressed by how many words it took his teammate to say pretty much nothing at all. He would have thought, through sheer probability, that something of relevance would have come up, even by accident. But no, it was usually about the latest impressive new restaurant or art gallery that Napoleon was suddenly taken by. Not that he blames Napoleon, it’s not as if he wants to talk any more than Napoleon does, but something about the inane chatter is starting to get on his nerves. If Napoleon had nothing to say to him after everything that had happened, he would prefer it if the other man stayed quiet instead. Then again, Illya understands better than anyone else, that isn’t really in Napoleon’s nature.

Gaby entered the room, followed by Waverly. The man was dressed in a sharp suit, and looked so perfectly normal that Illya felt a rush of gratitude at seeing something so familiar when everything around him seemed abnormal now. Illya had not seen their handler since the kidnapping, though he knew that Waverly had been talking regularly with both his teammates. He was surprised to see the man here in person. Illya had never met anyone who seemed to be as perpetually busy as Waverly seemed to be. Even when he was just milling about their headquarters, he seemed to give the impression that he had about a dozen tasks he needed to get done, and probably that even the milling around was accomplishing something of importance beyond Illya’s comprehension.

“Kuryakin,” Waverly nodded at him politely. “Gaby says you have finally bullied the doctors into letting you go home.”

Illya couldn’t help snorting at that. “I have been fine for over week now. If they were good doctors, they would have known that.”

“Hmmm….I assure you, they are extremely competent. I have personally reviewed the professional and personal details of all medical personnel at this hospital. Your primary physician graduated top seven in his year among a batch of ninety six. He also has a lovely daughter, who I understand is extremely intelligent herself, and would like to be a veterinarian when she grows up.”

Illya stared at the other man, unsure whether he was joking or not.

“Don’t mind him,” Gaby said. “He’s feeling a little insecure at the security breach in U.N.C.LE. and is overcompensating by being even more cavalier about the privacy of other people than normal.”

Waverly gave her a mild look of disapproval but didn’t bother responding. “Ms Teller, if you don’t mind. I would like to have a word alone with Kuryakin.”

Gaby paused, frown forming as she eyed the two of them. Illya had noticed that she seemed to be a lot more protective of him recently. It was surprisingly not as irritating as he thought it should have been. Of course, she would need to get over it before they went back into the field, but for now, maybe there was no harm in indulging her. She finally nodded, leaving the room briskly. Illya wondered if he was about to receive Waverly’s typical assessment of the mission, what exactly the three of them could have done to avoid things going as far as they had. He braced himself, not wanting to hear how he has failed his teammates, had not been strong or fast enough this time.

Waverly let out a long breath. “Mr Kuryakin, I apologize for not coming by sooner. I would say I have been busy doing a thorough review of the security, but while that’s true, it’s not the whole truth. The truth is that I am quite ashamed of my incompetence that led to this...unfortunate incident.”

Illya blinked, confused. “What?”

“I believed arrogantly that I ran a perfect ship, while my assets were being compromised due to my negligence.”

Illya opened his mouth, unsure how to respond. He was struck yet again that he had never worked with people like this before in his life. It was enough to make a lump form in his throat, cutting off his words temporarily.

Waverly seemed to take pity on him. “You don’t need to say anything, in fact I’d prefer it if you didn’t. I simply wanted to assure you that this will not happen again. The mole has been dealt with a manner that should discourage such actions in the future.”

Illya nodded, still unsure. “What about Andrew?”

“Yes, that’s a more delicate matter. He seems to have built quite a reputation for himself among the intelligence community, not just U.N.C.LE but internationally. KGB has expressed an interest in knowing about his future. He has been determined to be dangerous, I suspect he might not see a public trial, but I assure you he will not be a danger to anyone for the rest of his life.” 

Waverly paused and hesitated slightly before continuing.

“Illya, perhaps I should wait for the next particular discussion I want to have till you are more recovered, but then again, I do not see how postponing it would help, so I will be frank with you. Napoleon has asked me to inform you that should you have difficulty in working with him in the future in light of the revelations during the last few days, he would be willing to request a transfer.”

Illya felt a sudden rush of anger, and could feel his fingers start their telltale tremor. He tried to cover it by digging them into the pale sheets on his cot.

“He wants to quit the team?” Maybe, somehow, he was misunderstanding what Waverly was saying. He hadn’t expected this from Napoleon, not after everything.

“No, he was very clear in stating that he wished to continue with the two of you. Apparently, his goal is to avoid making you uncomfortable.” Waverly said, not looking pleased.

“I see.” Illya muttered.

“Napeoleon has a great many good qualities as we are all aware, but he can be …. difficult.”

_‘He is a coward.’_ Illya thought to himself viciously. He didn’t blame Napoleon for wanting to wash his hands off this whole mess, but he had hoped the other man would at least talk to him directly.

“Tell him to do what he wants. He does it anyway.” He informed Waverly bluntly.

Waverly nodded, “Noted. Take care, Illya.” He put a hand forward towards him but seemed to think better of it and left.

Gaby was apparently right outside, because she came in moments later, looking murderous.

“You were listening.” He pointed out and she didn’t bother denying it, settling in the chair, practically vibrating in her fury.

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. We are going to go away from this god forsaken place, and then I am going to beat up Napoleon, and we can all come back here tomorrow.”

Illya snorted. He had thought he was dreading being alone with Napoleon earlier, at least now he was too angry to care. “Let’s just leave, Gaby.”

Napoleon showed up just as they had cleared the paperwork at the hospital, and seemed to take one look at Gaby before deciding to stay quiet for once. The drive away from the hospital was a tense one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed the chapter!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the long delay, but I hope you enjoy this chapter! thanks so much for the feedback, it makes my day to know people still read this :)

Waverly nodded at Napoleon when he spotted him lounging in the reception area. The other man nodded at him, polite but not particularly friendly. He had always considered their handler aloof but compared to his interactions with the man after their ‘talk’, Waverly had been practically been a ray of sunshine earlier. It was almost impressive how much disdain could be conveyed with a brisk nod and a muttered “Mr. Solo.” At another time, he would have asked for tips.

“Waverly.” He replied, unwilling to give up any ground either. He could almost pretend It didn’t matter that Waverly and Gaby were judging him. He was very familiar with not being liked, and he should have known better than to get used to the easy camaraderie in their little group in the last couple of years. It was foolish of him to think it would last. He had hoped for a little longer before it ended though.

He kept his eyes down after the greeting, hoping Waverly would leave without further ado. However, nothing seemed to Napoleon’s way these days, as the older man settled himself into the high-backed chair right next to him.

“I presume you and Gaby have checked out the safehouse?” The older man asked, waiting for Napoleon to nod his assent before continuing. “I trust it is suitable for your requirements.”

“Seems lovely. I am confident it’s going to be absolutely delightful.” Napoleon said as sweetly as he could manage, getting a perverse joy when the other man’s brow furrowed even further.

“Right, of course.”

“If that’s all…” Napoleon started to get up the chair, because apparently Waverly wasn’t planning to leave him alone.

“Sit down, Solo.” Waverly snapped, hand knocking messily against the side of the chair, as if he was stopping himself from hitting something else. He seemed to regret it a second later, deliberately shifting his face back to neutral. It was too late, though, he had shown his… attachment and Napoleon knew how to take advantage of that. It was always easier to get under someone’s nerves when they cared.

“You seem…agitated. Is something the matter?” He remarked coolly.

Waverly let out a slightly louder than normal breath. It was fascinating to see the other man anything other than perfectly put together. Then again, he had been significantly on edge since the…incident. “I spoke to Illya regarding your concerns.”

Napoleon waited quietly, unwilling to hand Waverly any rope that would be used to hang himself.

Waverly watched him for a few seconds, then nodded briskly. “If that’s how you want to play it, I can’t help you. I am not even sure I want to. But do not for one second presume that you are doing the right or noble thing.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“All right, Solo, so be it. I thought that you had changed since…I thought you had changed. Clearly, I was mistaken. Have a good day.”

Napoleon felt a burst of grim satisfaction as he watched the other man walk away. An old boyfriend had once pointed out, wryly amused, that Napoleon wasn’t fully satisfied until he burnt a relationship to the ground. He had said most people would just walk away, but Napoleon would stand around just long enough to make sure it was well and truly dead. He supposed that tendency didn’t just apply to lovers either. There was something satisfying about a thorough break, no uncertainty, no chance of ever going back.

None of it mattered anyway. Waverly, Gaby… their disappointment and disdain wasn’t relevant. Illya though, that was a different matter, he could admit even if it was just to himself. But he had to. It was a simple fact of life that people were better off without him around. It only ever became clear to them after he was gone for good. His superficial charm was enough to convince most people to keep him around, deluding themselves into thinking he was something he was not and would never be.

Even before this whole mess, he had started to suspect that he was falling in too deep, but now he was sure. His emotions had compromised him, and he had messed up on a mission as a direct result of it. If he hadn’t been so terrified for Illya, he would have come up with some kind of solution sooner. He had gotten out of far sticker situations in the past, and with a lot more ease. He knew a dozen ways to manipulate people in every conceivable situation, had practically distilled it down to a science in the last decade. Andrew was an unmitigated mess and should have been easy pickings. If he had been thinking clearly, thinking rationally, they would have been free days ago.

Illya would be better off without dealing with him in the long run. And right now, when he was still raw from the incident, would be the best time to make the cut. A few glib remarks, even a few cruel ones would be more than sufficient.

When he had gone into Waverly’s office, he had every intention of requesting a transfer, which would have been a lot faster and cleaner than the current situation. Yet somehow the words just wouldn’t make it past him, sticking in his throat despite his best efforts. Plan B then, if he couldn’t find the guts to walk away, Napoleon could at least make sure they wouldn’t want him around. 

He steeled himself and made his way to Illya’s room, plastering on a smirk, although it was harder than he anticipated, in the face of the murderous look in Gaby’s eyes and unsurprised look in Illya’s.

…………….

Napoleon had tried to make himself scarce around the house as much as possible since they got back, and surprisingly faced no recriminations from Gaby since then. The red-hot anger which had caused her hands to shake constantly at the beginning had fizzled out in a couple of days, replaced by a polite blankness that was nonetheless far more cutting. She had given up on him. Then again, he was getting exactly what he wanted. And Illya, well he seemed to be seeing an empty space where Napoleon stood anyway for all the reaction he showed. It was only a matter of time before one of them made the call to Waverly. He could see it building with a grim satisfaction. It was easier than he had expected, which hurt more than he has anticipated.

However, he did occasionally have to sleep, and he snuck into the house at one in the morning, sighing with relief when the living room appeared to be dark and the other occupants fast asleep. He was moving as quickly as he dared to his room without accidentally crashing into something when he heard the sound, almost like an animal in pain. He startled, wondering if he was finally losing his mind as well.

But no, now that he was listening closer, he knew exactly what it was, and he couldn’t stop himself from following the sound to Illya’s door. The door was cracked open lightly, and even in the dim light he could see that the other man was caught in the grip of a nightmare, a litany of pained sounds and garbled Russian words escaping intermittently. He should call Gaby, he knew he should, but he found himself walking into the room anyway, beyond his conscious control.

Once he was in front of the man, he froze. He tried calling his team mate’s name softly, and then louder when that got no response. Finally, he gingerly placed a hand on the other man’s shaking shoulder, entirely unsurprised when he found himself pushed against the nearest wall a second later, Illya’s elbow pressing hard on his throat.

Recognition flickered over his teammate’s expression a second later, and he moved away quickly, as if he couldn’t bear to touch Napoleon for even a second more than necessary.

“You were having a nightmare,” Napoleon pointed out inanely, getting a well-deserved snort in response. Illya sat back down on the bed, still avoiding eye contact.

“I am fine now. You can leave.” The other man pointed out when Napoleon didn’t move.

Yes of course, he could leave. He should leave, that was the whole point of this god forsaken mess. So why was he standing there frozen like an idiot?

Illya waited a few more moments before grunting out, “If you have something to say, say it and leave.”

Instead of deflecting, he instead found himself blurting out, “I know Waverly spoke to you.” Good god, He hadn’t been this out of control since he was a teenager.

“He did.” Illya muttered, finally meeting his eyes. His expression was perfectly blank, but Napoleon could feel the cold fury as though it was burning him up. “You do not want to be part of team anymore. Fine. But say so instead of sneaking around like _thief._ ” The last word was spit out viciously, none of his contempt hidden.

Napoleon couldn’t help bristling at the accusation, even if it was well deserved. It had been a long time since Illya had last called him that. But he had to focus, it was still possible, he could still salvage this situation. One cruel remark was all that was needed, it was already taking shape in his head about how he would rather be a thief than a fool who follows orders blindly, but the words wouldn’t make it past his mouth, which seemed to be happening a lot lately.

Illya watched him for a second longer, before tense shoulders finally slumped in defeat. “It does not matter, not first time I have lost teammate because of bad work. My handler said I was best alone, so I don’t pull people down with me. Take Gaby with you when you go, convince her somehow. You are good at that.”

Napoleon’s eye caught on a chipped piece of wood on the headboard in the shape of a perfect triangle, unable to process the words. He remembered the first thing he noticed about this safe house was that it had been occupied once upon a time. Unlike most of their usual haunts, which were empty of everything but the basics, this one had worn tables and chairs even a child’s scribbles on the kitchen wall. He had wondered how it ended up with U.N.C.L.E. It was probably not a pleasant story.

He shook his head, trying to clear it off the steam of nonsensical thoughts. How on earth had he missed this? Napoleon had been so caught up in self misery, he had not thought Illya would…how could the other man possibly think it was his fault when he was the one who got…, Napoleon didn’t want to remember anymore.

“Illya…” Napoleon started, unsure of what to say but incapable of just standing there saying nothing while Illya somehow blamed himself for this clusterfuck.

“Just leave, Napoleon. I am tired.” Illya was looking down again, and he did sound truly worn out.

Napoleon tried to speak again even it was just to repeat Illya’s name but realized with shock that his voice was breaking, and he found himself blinking rapidly, unable to focus his eyes as they blurred. For a brief second, he couldn’t figure out what was happening to him. It had been a long time since he had cried last, and it felt wholly alien to him now. He took a few deep breaths, trying to control the hysterics, but the memories of the last month assaulted him one after the other, the escalating panic and the fury at seeing Andrew kiss Illya, at the memory of Illya on his knees, while Napoleon had stood by and done nothing. And now, somehow, he had managed to make it even worse, hurt the other man more even afterwards. He blinked rapidly, pressing at his eyes and still surprised when they came off wet.

……………………………

Illya had not been lying when he said he was tired, nowadays, he always felt a bone deep exhaustion, that didn’t go away even when he sat around all day, doing nothing. He woke up in the mornings feeling like he had at the end of the first few days of his training at KGB, pushed to the ultimate limit and unable to catch his breath.

He tamped down his irritation when the other man didn’t respond. He just wanted to be alone right now. The after image of Ivan being tortured from his nightmare still lingered, and his terror when Ivan’s face morphed into another far more familiar one felt fresh in his mind.

He looked up again a small broken off sound, ready to leave the room himself if Napoleon continued to stand there. He glanced up again, surprised to see the other man wiping at his eyes almost angrily. It took him longer than it should have to understand, then again who would expect to see Napoleon Solo cry? He watched silently, trying to hold on to his anger, even as he could feel it slipping away.

Napoleon took a few deep breaths, forcing himself back into some semblance of control. “I am sorry. I didn’t want to come in here and make a scene.”

“Then what do you want, Napoleon?” Illya found himself asking. “What is it you ever want?”

“I want..” Napoleon broke off briefly but continued, voice shaky, “I want you to not have nightmares, I want to have protected you from Andrew. I could have, Illya. If I had tried, I could have but I just couldn’t think. I was so scared all the time. I want you to not hate me. All the things Andrew said about me, he was right, about how I am just like him, you should hate me. But I want you to not hate me.”

Illya stared in disbelief at his teammate. The man stammering before him now wasn’t the Napoleon Solo he knew, or thought he knew.

Napoleon seemed to have finally run out of words, staring blankly at him for few seconds. “I am sorry, Illya. I seem to be having some kind of mental breakdown. I really didn’t mean to disturb you.” He turned sharply and left in a hurry, leaving Illya more confused than he ever remembered being in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed the chapter


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